Broken Strings
by Iane Casey
Summary: What if House and Cuddy aren't the only ones affected by their breakup? Post-House/Cuddy breakup. Tackles the breakup until 7x23. Enjoy! COMPLETE.
1. I

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

**_A/N: _**New story! This was s'posed to be a oneshot. But I doubted that it _wouldn't _exceed 18k words, like Turning Tables. This kept nagging at me until I wrote something. Decided on pushing through with it. _To those waiting for an Absence update, rest assured that I'm working on it..._

This story will only be a few chapters. Unbeta'd, my mistakes. Lol, be kind... it's 3:45 AM now. Tried to make House as IC as I possibly could with regards to his interactions with Rachel.

**Hope you like it! Enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>BROKEN STRINGS<strong>_

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><p>.<p>

House was peacefully playing his piano in his quiet sanctuary when his door was barraged with knocks. He stopped playing and rubbed his face with a hand. He would rather ignore the person, whoever the hell it was, standing on his doorstep, but seeing as it was already late, and he'd rather answer the door and be done with whatever the person on the other side of it wanted.

House downed the rest of the bourbon in his glass before gingerly standing up and walking towards the door, not bothering to peek through the peephole.

The moment he saw Cuddy standing on his doorstep with a wailing Rachel in her arms, he groaned.

"She won't stop crying. She keeps asking for you," Cuddy immediately apologized, exhaustion rendering her voice huskier than normal. She looked from the sniveling toddler wrapped in her arms to House who stood more or less two feet from her, face void of emotion.

"You're here because…"

"She keeps asking. For _you_," Cuddy emphasized, not entirely against begging at that point.

House felt guilty for what he was about to do, but he knew it had to be done, for Rachel's sake. The kid was already attached to him. It wouldn't help comforting her now if he won't be able to do it later, or the next time. She'll get over and forget him, given time.

"You're the boss. Teach her that she can't always get what she wants," House lectured indifferently, shrugging in nonchalance.

"She won't listen," Cuddy sighed, her eyes pleading and her ears bleeding from Rachel's cries. "Nothing I do would placate her. She wants _you._"

"Well," he started voice as emotionless as his face. He had to keep the indifference façade up until he wasn't facing her anymore. "That's not my problem anymore, is it?" he rhetorically inquired and slowly started to close the door on her.

Rachel must have finally recognized his voice and noticed his presence because, like a bullet, she instantly turned in Cuddy's arms and stopped crying altogether save for a few whimpers here and there.

"Hows!" she instantly cried, reaching for him. Her body anxiously tried to wriggle out of her mother's grasp.

"Rachel, no," Cuddy whispered softly, securing her grip on her daughter.

Cuddy managed to stop him from closing the door on them with her arm, her eyes begging him not to do it.

"House, please…" she pleaded, looking into his eyes. House sighed but made no move to close the door further. Neither did he move to take Rachel or step closer.

"Hows!" Rachel repeatedly shrieked in rapid succession, both in delight and frustration that the man wasn't taking her from Mommy.

"I know that… we're currently not on the best terms, but please…" Cuddy trailed off, her eyes watering as Rachel abruptly stopped and just stared at House in dejection.

House shook his head before running a hand down his face. How did he handle this situation?

"You shouldn't have taken her here. It's the reason you broke up with me. I'm _not _dependable or stable enough. You and Rachel would be better off without me. Having me around isn't in your, and especially not in Rachel's, best interest." House suddenly mumbled with unmistakable melancholy. "I won't be able to step up to the plate enough if either one of you needed me."

"You shouldn't have brought her here," House repeated after a second, shaking his head, too tired himself to keep much of his walls up.

Cuddy bit her lower lip, at a loss for words or what to do. She was so tired. All she wanted was to just collapse and get some semblance of rest. Having Rachel in her arms wasn't making things any easier either.

"I'm sorry," was all she could murmur. _I'm sorry I broke your heart; I'm sorry I gave up; I'm sorry I was so caught up with what I thought I needed to change in you when long ago, I've learned to love you just as you are. I'm sorry I let go._ He could take that apology in any which way he wanted. She was too exhausted to even put up her guard.

House stared at her for a while before mumbling, "Too late for that, don't you think?" _Yes, push her away. Don't let her change your mind. It'll be you who would end up hurt and abandoned. That's how everything in your life ended anyway._

A part of him wanted to try, though. Even for the last time. No matter how futile he thought his efforts would be, reaching out and trying to get back with her seemed a temping thing to do. They were both aware that he needed her in his life.

Cuddy's eyes never waned from his. Her heart broke as she saw the emotions that tried their best not to reveal themselves in his eyes. Her heart broke as she witnessed the damage caused by her ending things between them. As she met the blue oceans that were his eyes, she realized that he was probably right. By bringing Rachel to his place, she just made moving on all the more difficult for the three of them.

"You're right," she shook her head, breaking their optical connection. She adjusted a fussy Rachel on her hip with a slight wince. "I'm sorry," she whispered, meeting his eyes again for a split second before turning to exit the building.

House watched as Rachel's eyes started to water again, rejection and dejection pooling into those innocent and young eyes. He couldn't do this to her even if it was what had to be done. He knew how dejection and rejection felt, as a kid. He never wanted anyone to experience that, especially not Rachel. She'd done nothing wrong. She didn't deserve being involved in the tragedy that has become of his and her mother's relationship.

Cuddy was about to reach the door to his building when she suddenly felt House's clammy hand grip her elbow gently. She stopped walking and stood rooted to her spot for a few seconds. The feel of his hand against her skin for the first time in weeks made her want to tear up. She's missed him terribly, but she couldn't allow herself to show just how much.

"Gimme," he whispered awkwardly, letting go of her elbow just as quick as he held onto it.

Cuddy looked from the spot where he held her before quickly meeting his eyes as she turned to face him again. She didn't say a thing as once again, Rachel writhed in her arms, reaching for House. Her daughter probably had the feeling that House was finally going to take her.

House took the little girl, holding her to his chest securely before leaving Cuddy standing in the hall as he carried Rachel to his bedroom without a word. The kid needed her sleep.

Cuddy watched as Rachel immediately settled into House's embrace, clinging onto him like a baby monkey, sniffing dramatically as she buried her face in the crook of the man's neck.

"Hows…" Rachel sighed contentedly, her voice muffled against House's neck.

Cuddy's heart beat faster as she watched with misting eyes as Rachel's fist curled into his shirt while her other one went around House's neck. She stared at the two most important people in her life as they moved from her. She allowed herself a wistful smile as she watched Rachel brush her cheek against House's stubble and her fingers toyed with the short hairs on his nape.

She used to be the one who did that, she mused, while he kissed her or showed her without words how comfortable he was when they were together and away from hospital premises. She had no right to feel jealous, though. _She _ended their relationship. He didn't even have a say in the decision because she didn't give him a choice. It was solely her decision. He was but forced to accept it.

He had begged her not to end things, to not give up, but she did. She left him.

It tore her heart to pieces, seeing the two people she loved most so deeply affected by one decision she made. A decision she thought would be best for her and her daughter.

Well, apparently, Rachel begged to differ. Her daughter had stopped at nothing to get what she wanted, which was to see House again. Rachel had refused to be tucked in or be put to bed, throwing tantrums. She rarely ever did that, and it shook Cuddy.

Cuddy was pulled from her thoughts when she heard a faint giggle come from House's bedroom and she couldn't fight the urge to see him making her daughter smile despite not having to do so. It told her of many things about him. It spoke volumes of how much he and her daughter have actually bonded.

One thing she never thought she'd get House to do without forcing him.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing deeply. Quietly, she walked into House's sanctuary and closed the door behind her, locking it securely in the process.

Her back and side were hurting slightly from carrying Rachel but she ignored the pain—there were other things more painful than anything else at that moment. She thought that, in a way, they were self-inflicted.

She slipped off her slippers and walked barefoot across the hall, quietly making her way to the side of the door, out of sight, peeking at the duo. She watched as House made Rachel giggle, just by being his usual self, but for some reason, a tad kind this time. She watched and listened quietly as Rachel requested (demanded, a few seconds later, she thought in amusement) House to tell her a story. Cuddy could only imagine House's smirk from where she stood. She couldn't believe how much power Rachel had over House.

A while later, Cuddy's face fell and she suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping on something she shouldn't be eavesdropping into. She also felt like she was only subjecting herself to hurt by watching her daughter and the man whose fragile heart she just crushed interact with each other.

She knew House knew he didn't have to show Rachel any courtesy or kindness, but there he was, seated on his bed, facing her daughter and interacting with her as if they were still together. She was a rare spectator to these interactions because House didn't really pay Rachel much attention in front of her unless Rachel demanded to be attended to by him.

She moved away from the doorframe and walked a few steps from the door before sliding down to the floor and sitting as comfortably as she could. She leaned her back against the wall. She listened to the two catch up; she just couldn't stop herself from having to hear their interaction. A smile tugged at her lips while a dagger pierced her heart as she savored their voices. Two kids: one toddler and a man who acted like one, catching up.

She knew in her heart that she missed House terribly, but as she attentively listened to his voice as he told Rachel a story, she couldn't believe just how much she had missed him so.

A tear slipped from her eye minutes later when she heard Rachel say three words she never thought would pass her lips. Another tear as House replied. Those three words exchanged, followed by two words which stung her heart all the more.

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><p>"Hi," Rachel greeted him with a shy smile when their eyes met, blue on blue, as House settled her on what used to be Cuddy's side of his bed.<p>

"Hi, kid," he replied with a frown which slowly morphed into a smirk as he watched her bury her shy grin under the duvet he'd pulled up for her.

Rachel's lips pursed a little before she corrected him with a lively, defiant voice, saying, "Rachel!"

House rolled his eyes, smirk widening. He's probably been a bad influence on her. He liked the thought of that.

His face fell upon remembering that she couldn't be his co-conspirator. Well, not anymore. He and Cuddy were no longer together. Seeing Rachel from time to time would only serve to hurt them both.

Besides, knowing Cuddy, this would only be a one-time thing. She wouldn't allow Rachel to tantrum her way into getting what she wanted, especially if what she wanted would do nothing but to make things difficult for everyone involved. Cuddy would definitely put her foot down if push came to shove.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand before dragging it to his face.

"Hows?" Rachel called out, crawling from under the covers and sitting up in bed, facing him with bright and innocent blue eyes.

"What, Rachel?" he couldn't even bring himself to act that much of an ass—which most of the time Rachel found funny and amusing; other times, she'd just pull out a pout, and win; the little manipulator.

"Story?" she requested, that pout he had come to know so well taking hold of her face. House narrowed his eyes at her. Rachel was not the least bit intimidated. She narrowed her eyes right back, challenging him to deny her request.

"Story!" Rachel demanded of him, her arms akimbo.

House would have argued, but he decided to rest his case. It would probably the last time anyway. He'd like to think and remember that he'd at least treated her better before he "left" her. He didn't even know why he cared what she thought of him. Like she would actually be able to remember him a year or two from now?

He didn't understand it himself, but for some reason, he didn't want the last memory she would have of him (washed away as it may well be doomed to be) was him acting like the uncomforting son-of-a-bitch her mother thought he was.

Honestly, it stung.

"Peas?" she added, a shy smile slowly removing her pout.

House sighed—he's been doing that a lot, lately. When did this kid have so much power over him? And when the hell did she learn how to practice it?

"Okay," he acquiesced.

Rachel giggled loudly, scrambling right back under the covers, pulling the duvet up and under her chin.

House, despite himself, found her anticipation quite adorable. He rolled his eyes at himself. When did he start to say (or think) 'adorable' and not mean it sarcastically? He was definitely losing his touch.

"Story!" Rachel begged, kicking her feet against his mattress in the earnest excitement only a child could exhibit.

"So impatient," House couldn't help but comment, smirking. "Okay, okay!" he said in a resigned whisper.

Rachel smiled up at him, her nose jutting up into the air, proud of her ability to make him succumb into her wishes.

Like mother, like daughter, House thought. Oy vey.

House gazed at her for a while before he finally decided on a story.

Three Little Pigs…

Well, he definitely wouldn't have chosen to tell her those sappy Disney stories. And he wouldn't dare tell her Sherlock Holmes-y like stories—too young for stuff like that. Besides, the three little pigs would require less effort in telling.

"How many pigs are there, again?" House suddenly asked, lips pursing and face scrunching up in mock confusion.

"Three!" Rachel supplied proudly since she knew the story, grinning up at him.

"Right," he smirked.

"So the two—"

"Three!" Rachel corrected, aware of the incorrect number of pigs House was going to say.

Rachel smirked smugly as House started again, saying the correct number this time.

A smug smile took hold of her mouth and she rested her arms, folded, behind her head. A carbon copy view of the way she had looked up at him when he'd been searching her dirty diaper for a 'misplaced' dime.

House looked down at her, meeting her gaze for a while.

He couldn't help himself…

He smiled.

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**_So... should I continue? Please leave a review and lemme know what you think! :)_

_**Thanks for reading!**  
><em>


	2. II

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

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><p><em>I ask everyone to please take a moment of silence and pray for the soul of one of our most talented HouseCuddy fanfiction writers, Andressa Matos aka Andie. This most unfortunate news hailed from Miss Cuddles, Andie's great friend. Andie passed away on March 30th from a heart attack and was buried on March 31st at Jardim Metropolitano in Fortaleza, Brasil. We may not have been very close, but I have had the privilege of reading her downright touching, exemplary and amazing writing, and I've had exchanged messages with her in the past. She was a very nice, very humble person, and truly one of a kind. Andie, you will always be remembered by everyone whose lives you have touched with your kindness and your writing.  
>May you rest in peace, love! See you on the other side.<em>..

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><p><em><strong>AN: This one's for you, Andie...  
><strong>__Special thanks to my darling Penny S. Cartwright for betaing this chapter like a bullet... _

_And to everyone who have read, thank you so, so much for the AMAZING feedback! It means a lot to me. :) _

_Mkay, it's 4:30 AM... I have got to stop editing this and proceed with the updating part. ;) Hope you guys like it!  
><em>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>BROKEN STRINGS<br>**_

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><p><em><strong>II<strong>_

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Rachel and House were silent for a while after he finished telling her the story of The Three Little Pigs. During his story telling, Rachel had listened attentively, actively participating in the animated gestures House allowed himself to make. House let out a small smile when Rachel sincerely thanked him for her bedtime story. She had visibly enjoyed herself. And it made something inside him bloom.

A moment later, Rachel got bored with the silence and suddenly smiled, an idea popping into her mind. "Play?" she piped up, a grin on her lips. Games with House were always fun.

That suggestion made House smirk. He shook his head, immediately making Rachel frown in disappointment. "Bed," House said, patting his mattress. "It's late, your mother will kill me. I'd love to annoy her but I don't see any point in doing that, now. Besides, I'm tired." He was talking to a kid who barely understood what he was saying. His face scrunched up; he'd gone sappy. His eyes darted to the giggling toddler wrapped up in his duvet.

Damn it, he was going to miss the little bugger. If his and Cuddy's relationship had ended a couple months ago instead, Rachel would probably have been the last thing he'd acknowledge he'd miss.

House closed his eyes, shutting them tightly.

How could he have messed things up beyond repair?

He was broken from his reverie when he felt the bed dip slightly and arms wrapped up and around his neck. He opened his eyes to Rachel's sympathetic bright blue eyes resting on his.

"Hows sad?" she asked him, sad seeing him frown.

Just like the day he unintentionally bonded with her, he awkwardly wrapped one arm around her tiny body and sighed.

"Yes, Rachel."

"I make better!" Rachel announced, pulling from their embrace and standing on her feet on the bed. She tilted her head to the side with a lopsided grin on her lips when she saw House's face scrunch up in confusion. The lines in the man's face deepened as she smacked both his cheeks with her tiny palms before kissing him on each cheek with sloppy butterfly kisses. Rachel laughed in delight as the man grimaced in disgust, though his eyes held in them a small sparkle of amusement.

"Better?" Rachel asked, remembering when Mama had done it when she got hurt at the park. Her eyes widened and she waited with bated breath for his response.

House smirked down at her once he got over the initial shock and confusion. Rachel put her hands on her hips.

"Much," House sarcastically replied though Rachel didn't understand the sarcasm. She just smiled and dropped back down to her knees again and embraced him.

"Night, Hows," she mumbled in a yawn. He knew she was finally realizing how sleepy she was.

"Good night, Rachel," House replied, allowing himself the chance to hold and hug her for what would be the last time. He helped Rachel under the sheets. He found it ironic; the first time he tucked her in, he wished wasn't the last opportunity he had. He couldn't believe it himself; he wasn't opposed to the thought of tucking her in more. He should have been.

He was about to stand and have the inevitable talk with the sprog's mother, but he was stopped, frozen in his place as Rachel sleepily murmured, "Lob you, Hows…"

Did _he _love her? Probably not, but he definitely did not hate her. He did like her though. Was that liking closely leaning towards _loving_ Cuddy's daughter? Under the current circumstances, he absolutely hoped not. He hardly knew how to handle the breakup as it was. Thinking greatly of losing Rachel too would complicate things even further.

Something inside the man cowered at the toddler's words.

He was afraid to hurt her. And he would, the morning Rachel would have to leave whether she liked it or not. He was certain that Cuddy would keep her away from him from then on, because Rachel was already too attached to him. A few seconds of staring into those innocent blue eyes, House found himself doing something he never thought he'd do in his lifetime.

He bent forward and pressed a quick kiss on Rachel's forehead, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

He really was. Sorry for hurting her mother, hurting _her_ for what was going to happen a few hours later. He was sorry for screwing things up although he knew he had that coming. He didn't really know he'd lose so, so much until he did.

Sometimes he wondered if things would have been better if he had just allowed Cuddy to walk away that afternoon after the night they got together. But he knew, somewhere deep down, he wouldn't have experienced happiness if he hadn't tried. He didn't regret being with Cuddy. He would never regret it. He would only regret not having tried hard enough to be what she needed. He'd always think, "What if…?"

He had known that she would be the one to break things off. He knew that one day she'd realize that the man she was sleeping next to was nothing but a burden to her life. That he would never be able to step up to the plate and be there for her when things got rough.

He'd only proven her right. So… after months of being in love with her, she broke things off, leaving him hurting… and still in love with her, and now, almost certainly fond of her daughter as well.

The past few weeks had been more painful than the pain he felt in his leg.

There had been nights after she broke up with him and after the booze and hooker binge that he tried to convince himself that it was definitely for the best. That he wouldn't be dragging her down anymore. He tried to make himself believe that it was better since he wouldn't have to do his damnedest to try and be what she wanted him to be every time she thought he should be this or that guy. That he wouldn't have to try hard anymore to meet her high expectations of him when she herself told him that she didn't want him to change.

She knew he was and would always be screwed up. He couldn't understand why, just a few months after they got together, she wanted him to practically change himself for her.

He did what she wanted anyway, because he loved her that much.

Look where that got him.

House sighed.

He tucked Rachel a little more securely under his sheets before standing up. Those little blue eyes followed him until he reached the door to his bedroom. Rachel stared at him for a while before giving him a small smile and closing her eyes, succumbing to sleep's call.

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><p>"You're good with her," Cuddy acknowledged when she saw House exit his bedroom, looking up at him from her spot on the floor of his hallway. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes; it practically mirrored her own.<p>

"Yeah, well, I don't see why that matters now," House bitterly replied in a low growl. He made sure to keep his distance from her as she stood to her feet. "Take the couch. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."

"House—"he heard her footsteps draw closer to him, and his jaw clenched.

"Don't. Whatever it is, Cuddy, I don't want to hear it." He felt her hand trying to turn him. He reluctantly allowed her to, but as he did, his head hung low. He couldn't look at her.

Tentatively, Cuddy lifted her arm and cradled his jaw in her hand. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she felt the hotness of his skin, "You have a fever…"she noted with a frown.

"You don't have to worry about Rachel getting sick," he cut her off quickly, pulling himself away from her touch, taking a step back.

She was not worried about Rachel at that moment. She was genuinely worried about him. Her brows furrowed as she watched him shake his head.

"You know how to find things if you want to get ready for bed," he said, his back facing her as he went in search of a clean pillow and an afghan she could use.

Cuddy watched him walk away from her. His limp was more pronounced and a pang of guilt shot through her. She stood there watching him until he disappeared into his bedroom. She let out a heavy sigh before walking towards his bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her eyes took in the menacing presence of an all too familiar orange pill bottle and her stomach churned.

Was he still taking them? Was he really throwing away everything he had worked hard for?

She hated herself as the answers to those questions hit her like a sucker punch, leaving her out of breath. He'd call her a narcissist for thinking so, but she knew this relapse was her fault. He'd taken but one pill, and she'd cut him off, just like that. Now, he was probably popping them into his mouth like candy again. As if he hadn't experienced his all too many downfalls because of those opiates. As if he hadn't almost lost his mind—everything he had. As if he had no reason to stay sober anymore.

She had heard from his team about his surprising lack of reaction to solving a difficult case, not even boasting about being right again. Didn't cases fulfill him anymore?

Her eyes watered as she was reminded of the night he came to her, drunk and wet from the rain. He'd chosen to drink instead of being present for an award for her _and _drink there. He'd told her he'd always choose her—because she was worth it, he'd said.

Was she really?

She bit her lip to keep from crying. She wasn't the only one who had sacrificed things to try and make a relationship with him work. She never acknowledged what he'd been sacrificing. She knew that he had always been worried that he'd do something wrong that would wake her up and make her break up with him. So he did everything he could.

But she didn't even acknowledge that _he tried, _so hard_._

Cuddy shook her head. She'd made her bed, now she had to lie on it. She couldn't make herself believe he'd change. She was wrong to tell him she didn't want him to, because the entire time she spent with him, it was all she ever did, even if she'd done it unconsciously. It was her fault, not his.

He wasn't the only one who screwed up. If she were being honest with herself, she'd acknowledge that she was the one who screwed things up more. But she didn't want to dwell on that. She just wanted this night to be over and done with. She wanted to be away from any proximity to him—it only reminded her of how much she still loved and missed him.

It only reminded her of how much she actually messed things up for them.

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><p>Cuddy exited the bathroom some minutes after she was able to compose herself. She ran into House as he exited his bedroom, two pillows and a blanket in his arms.<p>

She met his eyes for a while. She could see how tired he was. She hated herself for having him play house in the ruins of their broken relationship.

"How's Rachel?" she found herself asking. It was surprising how her daughter hadn't even asked for her.

"Asleep."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Let me worry about that," he answered gruffly, thinking that she was only concerned that Rachel might get sick too.

"I'm worried about you, too," Cuddy told him, as if reading his mind. "You're sick and your leg—"

"You should have thought about that the night you left me with a bottle of opiates in my possession," was the only sharp reply she got before he limped towards his couch, dropping the pillows and blanket on top of it. He turned and made his way back to his room but before he could enter, she held his elbow gently.

"Are you still taking Vicodin?" she couldn't help but ask. She _had _to know. If he was, why was he still in so much pain?

"Yes." _No._

Her face fell but she was quick to hide her emotions. "Why?"

"Don't bring her here again. If you can't control your daughter then you're not fit to be her mother."

She knew he was deflecting. She knew he was just trying to poke a sharp stick at her. At one time, she would have slapped him. This time, she didn't.

"Why are you still taking Vicodin?" she prodded, her face stoic.

Their eyes met again, and she ached at the vulnerability she saw in those uniquely beautiful blue eyes.

"Everything hurts." _I don't want to go back there. _

House walked away, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Cuddy stared at his door blankly.

"Good night, House."

She received no reply.

* * *

><p>So early in the morning did Lisa Cuddy feel her heart swelling with so many emotions as she stood leaning against her ex-boyfriend's bedroom door.<p>

The sight before her was one she wished that she'd seen under different circumstances—circumstances wherein she and House were still together.

A sad smile crept onto her lips as she watched her daughter sleep on top of House, occupying the space from the crook of his chest to his lower belly. House's left arm was protectively cradling Rachel's body, anchoring her to him, a hand on her toddler's diaper and pajama-clad bottom.

The two children, the real one and the man-child, were sleeping on the floor. Her eyes moved to spot the wrinkled space in the middle of House's bed and Cuddy instantly frowned. House didn't sleep in it. He had let Rachel sleep in his bed and he chose to sleep on the floor since she had his couch.

He chose to sleep on the floor despite the discomfort it would undoubtedly cause his leg, just to acknowledge her unsaid worry about Rachel getting sick as well. He knew even if she didn't admit that she was just as concerned about Rachel as she was about him. She knew that he knew he didn't have to listen to her because, for one, it was his apartment and his bed. She had expected him to lash out at her and defy her as much as he could.

He didn't. He did what he thought would be best for Rachel, notwithstanding his own comfort and his leg's pain.

Seeing him sleeping on the floor, his head and leg each proper with a pillow made her feel guiltier. She asked herself whether she ever thought of his needs when they were together. Did she think of his feelings? She knew she'd been wrong in telling him she didn't want him to change. It was hypocritical of her because ever since they got together, almost all their issues have mostly been petty. In a way, she'd been right about some of those issues, but in the grand scheme of things, all her issues against him or his actions weren't that important, honestly.

Her eyes were possessed by the scene before her until her eyes moved to Rachel as her daughter opened those beautiful blue eyes of hers and met her gaze. Rachel didn't pay her much attention though. Her daughter just stared at her for a moment before her eyes fluttered closed again and she buried her face as deep as she could into House's chest.

All Cuddy wanted was to do the same, and enjoy a weekend off with them.

But things and circumstances have changed, and she couldn't even if she wanted to. She had to restrain her innermost urges.

Cuddy dug into her pocket and retrieved her Blackberry. She captured a picture of the two wanting to at least have that moment with her to remind her of some of the many endearing qualities she knew House had, even if it took time to rise to the surface.

They looked so peaceful, but she knew she couldn't let Rachel get used to his presence anymore. She knew she had to keep her daughter from seeing him. It hurt to think that she had to make her child forget him. She knew she was only protecting her daughter. It didn't mean she had to feel good about it, or like it.

Even if he didn't say anything last night, she knew she couldn't put House through this again either. He'd already formed a bond with Rachel. She knew he wasn't heartless. She knew he'd try to hide what he was really feeling. She couldn't ask him to play house again. No matter how hard he tried to conceal the fact that he was affected by losing Rachel as well, Cuddy could, painfully, see right through it.

She walked as silently as she could towards the bed, grabbing a blanket and covering them with it.

She took one more glance at the two people she loved most in the world before she turned and made her way to the kitchen, thinking of something to make him before she left with Rachel. It was the least she could do.

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Moar? :) _Please drop a review and lemme know what you think! :)__

__**Thank you for reading!**__


	3. III

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

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><p><em><strong>AN: **__Thanks to my dearest beta, Penny! :D Long chap, I hope that makes up for the wait! :D  
>To the anon. reviews I'm not able to reply to, I just wanted to let you guys know that you guys rock! Thank you so much for the kind words! :)<em>

_Your awesome reviews make me so motivated and inspired! :D_

**Heartwrenching, but I hope you still like it!**

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><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

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><p><strong><em>III<em>**

****.

"Hows…"

"Hooooowsssss…"

Tap.

Tap, tap.

Another tap…

"Howssssh!"

A groan… then silence again.

Smack!

Rachel Cuddy pouted huffily as the man finally started to stir after she slapped his chest.

House sleepily opened his eyes to find Cuddy's daughter straddling his torso, her pout morphing into a coy grin as he glared at her. Why was she even around still? He expected Cuddy to have whisked her away with her before he woke up.

"Hi…" Rachel greeted him shyly, her fingers fiddling with his tee.

House smirked at the kid, wondering how she could have gone from smug to coy in a matter of seconds. He hooked one arm around her small body and he tentatively sat up so he can rub his leg. Rachel giggled at the sudden shift which caused her to slide down a little bit.

House rubbed at his leg, testing its initial soreness for the morning, his eyes closed. Rachel noticed the movement of House's hand and she frowned, almost heartbrokenly. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him, as if to make his Ouchy go away.

House felt the sentiment in her actions and all he could do was tilt his head back, gazing at the ceiling as if it could give him the strength he would need to get through that day. He wondered how he had gotten so attached to this innocent human being sitting on his lap.

He wondered how he'd been able to bond with a child and feel remorse in the fact that he couldn't do much to keep himself in her life even if he wanted to.

The decision was not his. The decision was her mother's. He was forced to just accept it... or not. It didn't really make a difference, he guessed.

He shouldn't have gotten close. He shouldn't have invested time in getting along with her to please Cuddy. He shouldn't have tried so hard.

He got attached, he got close, and he felt something—a need to protect this young, innocent kid he could have cared less for a year ago.

"Mama?" Rachel finally inquired, tilting her head back to see House's sad face. She frowned—it seemed like an automatic reaction of hers. She looked into House's eyes; somewhat searching for the answer to a question her young mind couldn't quite formulate just yet, her mother forgotten for a while.

Something in House's chest coiled at the glimmer of unadulterated sadness in Rachel's eyes. She _felt _his pain.

He didn't want her to feel his pain. He didn't want her to feel the kind of pain he felt at all. So House let his frown turn upside down, smiling all for Rachel's benefit. At first Rachel's brows furrowed in doubt, but she just as quickly smiled up at him, her nose once again jutted up in the air. She playfully tilted her head from left to right, still smiling, acting all-too-cutesy for House's flavor. She didn't have to be told that he wouldn't smile. She knew he would do that weird smile; a smirk.

House carefully lifted her from him so she could stand on her feet. She watched as he carefully stood up, wondering where the long brown stick he always had was. She looked around the room before spotting it hooked on the top of his big bed. She scurried for it, clumsily trying to get to it in vain.

House watched, seeing how Rachel pondered on things and connected them; it fascinated him, how her mind connected things—his disability and his need for his (chewed-on) cane. He watched as she struggled to get it _for_ him. His face turned serious as he took in her defeat upon unsuccessfully retrieving his cane for him. He sighed. Kids.

He took two steps and bent forward to take her small hand in his much larger one. 'Together' they lifted House's cane from his bed's headrest and Rachel instantly smiled. House rolled his eyes, offering a sarcastic "Thank you" to make the kid feel better. He told himself he did that so he couldn't hear her wailing her lungs out again.

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><p>She was all for just leaving him with breakfast and a note to express her gratitude, but Cuddy was able to think about it a little last night and as she made her way to the kitchen a few minutes earlier. When she woke up she thought leaving would be the best thing, but a little while after she left his bedroom, seeing them sleeping so peacefully, she just couldn't settle on a decision.<p>

Last night, as she tossed and turned on the couch, she realized that abruptly severing Rachel's bond with him just like that wouldn't be best for Rachel. It'd be what was best for _her _and House. She knew House would rather it ended as soon as possible so he could get over it as soon as possible, too. It was how she dealt with some things in her past as well.

She knew what would be best for Rachel, but even considering asking House to help her sounded wrong. Wrong, because she couldn't keep dragging him into Rachel's problem. She knew she couldn't just remove House from the picture and expect her daughter to cry a few hours, throw a few tantrums and move on, or self-soothe to cope for the loss. It just wasn't an option.

She had to have Rachel gradually see or hear less and less of House and, Cuddy hoped as hell, forget about him.

If she were being honest with herself, she didn't want that. She didn't want Rachel to forget House and how great he was with her, but their current situation called for it. Cuddy herself wanted to forget how good House was to her daughter notwithstanding how he sometimes treated her like a lower species, because all she felt was pain and remorse from keeping House from connecting with another person, her daughter—what she'd been wanting when she first asked House to babysit.

She wanted to just think of House being nice and tolerant of Rachel as a show—in fact, she would have believed it back then. Now, there was no reason to think he was just putting up an act of being interested in her daughter because he really was. He had invested feelings already. He'd been involved, even if he didn't initially plan on it. He played with her, taught her games, and babysat her without much complaint.

He genuinely cared for Rachel.

It broke Cuddy's heart thinking just how much she had taken from the man she loved by letting go and giving up.

He did deserve a second chance. She knew Wilson was right. But she couldn't go down that road again. She knew how it would end. She couldn't put him or herself through that plateau of hurt and heartache. It was unfair.

Was this? Was doing _this _to him fair? Was leaving him for one cursed pill fair?

Maybe not, but it wasn't a question of fairness. It had been the right thing to do.

Leaving him with opiates ten to fifteen feet away from where he stood after breaking up with him, breaking him, was that fair?

Cuddy shook herself from her thoughts. She'd been too late to think her decisions through.

She opted to focus on the bacon and eggs she had started to fry, deciding that she'd ask for his help and that she wouldn't just up and leave while Rachel was still asleep, and preventing her daughter from at least saying goodbye. She dreaded the moment she'd have to talk to him and tell him the strategy she'd pondered. She hoped that nothing that morning would stop her from asking for his help.

She didn't want to do this to him, but surely if he cared about Rachel enough, he'd do this for her.

She prayed House hadn't rebuilt his walls that far up yet. She hoped he'd understand.

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><p>"Oh for heaven's sake, can't you walk?" House whined in a low, gruff voice when Rachel reached for him, arms raised and waiting for him to lift her up from the floor and into his arms. Rachel stood rooted to her spot, an impatient glare painted on her face.<p>

House groaned under his breath, rubbing his face and the back of his neck with slight frustration and annoyance. The move also reminded him that he still had a fever. He wasn't a morning person, everybody but Rachel, it seemed, knew that.

Despite his slightly grumpy mood, House propped his cane against his nightstand and picked Rachel up and into his arms, propping her on his left hip. Rachel giggled at her success, her arms coming to wrap around his neck. She wasn't heavy, but he still tested his leg after he grabbed his cane and took a few steps forward.

With Cuddy being the last thing on his mind, House exited his bedroom. He made his way towards his kitchen to fix the little devil something to eat before she got vocal about her possible hunger.

"Mama, Mama!" Rachel greeted Cuddy as she came into view, waving at her but not leaning forward or raising her arms to imply that she wanted to be taken. She was clearly perfectly content being in House's arms despite his limping gait.

"Hi, Sweetie!" she greeted her daughter. Unable to resist her maternal urge to kiss her, she met House halfway and pressed a kiss on Rachel's forehead. She met House's uncomfortable gaze for a while before stepping away and giving him his space.

"Good morning. I made breakfast," she immediately informed him. She shamefully wasn't able to make something for Rachel. She thought House noticed it, because after having scanned the plates on the nook, he certainly must have noticed and concluded that she obviously hadn't planned on staying for breakfast.

Wordlessly, House hung his cane on his kitchen's nook and moved through his cupboards, pulling out ingredients with his one free hand, intent on making breakfast for Rachel... and maybe, Cuddy, too.

Pancakes were all he had ingredients for. He hadn't exactly been taking good care of himself these days.

"Watcha doin'?" Rachel asked him with fascination, eyes bright and curious.

"I," House started, ignoring Cuddy who was most certainly listening, "am going to make you breakfast."

He slightly pulled his head back and looked at her, face mock serious as he asked her, "You like pancakes?"

"Yes!" Rachel answered with an enthusiastic nod.

"Good. Because I won't be making anything else," he muttered, setting back to work. Rachel only giggled—he hardly bothered anymore whether she actually understood him or was just basing her gleeful reactions on how his voice sounded as he spoke. If it was the latter, the kid had been mocking him, he mused.

"How are you feeling?" Cuddy asked, looking at him.

House's eyes shot to her before he focused back on making his batter, not answering her.

"Make Mama too?" Rachel asked him as he pulled a stool for her to stand on so she could help him if she wanted.

"No, carry!" the toddler complained as House was about to set her down, clinging tightly onto him.

"Rachel," Cuddy chastised gently from her spot, "House has to put you down so he can make you pancakes."

"No!"

"Rachel," Cuddy warned in a sterner voice, meeting House's eyes for the fraction of a second.

"No…" Rachel whined softly, still adamant but aware of her mother's tone of voice.

House saw Cuddy bite her lower lip, jaw clenching, and he sighed.

A moment later, an idea popped into his mind and he asked the kid, "Hey Rachel, wanna help me make pancakes?"

He knew his idea was successful the moment he felt her nod against the crook of his neck.

"Then I have to put you down," he reasoned in a whisper. He hated that he was doing this in front of Cuddy. He felt like an idiot, but it was a good thing that he didn't really care what she thought of him that much as of late.

"Okay?"

Silence pervaded the air around them and after a few seconds, House and Cuddy heard Rachel agree. "Okay," she reluctantly said.

House set her down on the stool, making sure she was standing steadily on her two feet before he started mixing his batter with the whisker.

"House, I think it'd be better if you sat her down on the surface," Cuddy suggested, doubtful that Rachel would remain steady as her daughter was prone to shaking her bottom when she was enjoying. She didn't want to risk a fall and a trip to the ER.

House looked at her before nodding and lifting Rachel onto the counter, next to his bowl.

Rachel watched with amazement at the stuff in the bowl and at House's hand holding the whisker, mixing. Round, and round, and round, and round it went.

"Me! Me!" She chimed in, not content with just being a spectator for too long.

House handed Rachel the whisker and watched as she messily stirred his perfect batter into frenzy.

"Slowly, honey, slowly," Cuddy corrected with a chuckle. Rachel listened, slowly mixing with both hands on the whisker's handle. A minute later she seemingly got the hang of it and lifted her head up to smile at House, proud of herself. She then looked at Mama who smiled back at her.

Cuddy watched with wonder as House kept up with her daughter and her curiosity, seemingly able to tolerate her questions and answering them as less sarcastic or obnoxious as he could. She couldn't believe what was right in front of her. She couldn't believe that this could have been them, that they could have had days like this. She couldn't believe she missed this about him—she knew he was great with children, but she never knew he had become so close and tender with her daughter.

"I'll just… be in the bathroom," she suddenly said, a pang of guilt and a lash of emotions suddenly hitting her out of nowhere.

"Like we had to know that," House sarcastically commented, not looking her way.

A few more minutes of letting the kid have her fun with the batter, House announced, "Okay, that's enough. I'm hungry."

Rachel giggled and clapped her hands, happy to have helped and had fun. She watched, crossing her legs, as House took out a pan and placed it on the stove. She jumped in her seat a bit as she saw the fire upon which he placed the pan.

"Alright, who's hungry?" he asked with a smirk.

"Me!" Rachel squealed, raising her arm as high as she could.

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><p>Cuddy closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, her heart beating fast. She tried her hardest to keep the tears from coming, but they slid down her cheeks anyway.<p>

She couldn't have just sat down there and watch as if everything was normal, because everything was a mess. And she caused it. She couldn't stand seeing her daughter so happy because she knew she wouldn't remain the same way hours from now, when Rachel would ask her for House again, asking where he was, why he wasn't home, or why he didn't want to talk to her. Why he_ couldn't_ be there.

House was great with her, truly great with her. Cuddy couldn't believe that she was only seeing the real side of House interacting with Rachel that way at this point in time. She hurt at the thought that today would be the first and last time she would see House and Rachel spending time together the way she wanted them to back then.

Cuddy wiped furiously at her face, not wanting House to see her crumbling from her own decision. She had to put up a brave face, because she had made her decision. She had chosen not to be with him.

She had to adhere to the choice she made.

She just had to.

That also meant having to avoid asking for his help until she desperately had to.

It was a selfish decision, but then again, she was selfish—she'd realized that recently.

She just didn't know how far she'd be taking it until her daughter became very much affected by what or has happened between her and House.

She just wished it wouldn't have to come down to that.

A part of her wondered how far her pride and stubbornness could go.

She allowed herself to cry for her loss though, sitting on the edge of his tub, memories of their time spent together flooding her mind.

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><p>"Pancakes in bed, bet Mommy's too uptight to let you do that," House said smugly as he shoved a pancake into his mouth, grinning down at Rachel who imitated him.<p>

"Yummy!" she announced, swinging her head happily from side to side, making the man in front of her smirk. Rachel giggled. "Yummy, yummy!" she repeated as she ate another mini pancake dripping with the gooey syrup.

House stared at the kid, internally baffled at just how much he enjoyed her company. He liked kids, yes, but he never thought he'd enjoy one's company for a long period of time.

_She'll be out of your hair in no time, no worries._

A part of him sank at that. As much as she annoyed him, he didn't want her gone; he didn't really want her to stop existing in his life.

What was it that he really wanted? Father her? Hell, he was barely fit as a father figure. Her friend? That seemed a bit pedophilic for his ears.

He delved into a relationship with Cuddy willing to tolerate her daughter because he knew they were a packaged deal. Once Cuddy accused him of keeping her at arms' length during the hooker masseuse fiasco, he became willing to get to know and spend time with her daughter because that would take them to the next phase of their relationship. Then he was cornered into babysitting Rachel. He tried his best to run from having to do so at first, but after that dime incidence, he'd been more careful in looking after her. The reason for which he told himself was only because Cuddy would have both his heads if something bad happened to her daughter under his watch. Then the real bonding began when he had taught her to prepare her up for the school Cuddy wanted her to get into. The first real smile he must have given her was the one he unconsciously let out when Rachel said her first lie. He had been proud, as twisted as that sounded.

The night Cuddy told him Rachel didn't get in, he should have been unaffected. But he was in fact, affected. Cuddy knew and saw that, but she never asked him why. He himself was surprised that he wasn't entirely disappointed because his efforts went down the drain, but because Rachel was smart and she didn't get in when she deserved to, all because of siblings getting priority.

That night also became the first night Rachel had approached him for comfort—comforting _him_ maybe? She surely could have cared less if she got into the school. For all he knew it could have been but a play date for her, and not some kiddy version of an entrance exam

It had also been the first time he touched her, wordlessly comforting her back as well, finally accepting her into and as a part of his life.

"House—"

"What?" he asked, abruptly being pulled from his thoughts. His head turned to look at Cuddy standing against the doorframe.

"I said: Don't let her eat on the bed," Cuddy gently scolded him, her arms folded on her chest.

"It's my bed," he defended, scoffing.

Cuddy sighed, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Mama!" Rachel waved her over, inviting her to sit beside her, patting the mattress.

Cuddy looked at House for a moment, asking permission to do so. He nodded once, picking up another pancake and shoving it into his mouth with less gusto. Cuddy noticed it but didn't say anything.

"Wow, they smell yummy, Rachel!" Cuddy cooed, bending forward to kiss her daughter's sticky cheek before sitting down beside her.

House took another pancake and dragged it along the saucer filled with syrup. "You don't get to cry," he mumbled under his breath, not really wanting to say what he had, but hating the fact that she couldn't live with her decision just a few weeks after the night everything came to an end by her own doing.

Cuddy's eyes shot to look at him. How did he notice?

That was a stupid question. He noticed everything—it was what made him so damned good at what he did for a living.

"I can't cry?" she asked him hesitantly, taking a mini pancake from the stack and dipping it into Rachel's plate which was filled with syrup.

"Yes," he said, meeting her eyes for a bit before looking down again.

It may have been a quick second, but Cuddy saw the hurt in those cerulean eyes."You're not the only one who hurts, House," she whispered. "I hurt, too," she admitted. "Especially now, seeing you do so well with her, being so nice… I can't even convince myself to just think you're putting on a show because I know you're not."

"Rachel, finish your pancakes," Cuddy said as Rachel stopped eating and looked from House's sad face to Mama's equally sad face. Their faces made her sad, too.

She did what she was told, but she was a bit happy to eat again when House gave her a wink which made her giggle. That meant he was okay.

"I'd rather you think it was a show. I'm a master manipulator, remember? Or have you forgotten that the same way you forgot for months that I'm a drug addict? Don't make yourself forget that," he hissed venomously. It was hard to rein himself in, but he had to, Rachel was just in between them.

He sighed and ran a hand to his face in aggravation. "Don't make things harder for me, Cuddy. I was trying my best to cope before you came here last night, but now…" he trailed off, suddenly unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing he really felt incomplete without the two of them in his life.

"But now what, House?" Cuddy urged, needing to know what he felt.

House met her gaze for a while, wanting to know whether she was just curious, concerned or wanted to stomp on his heart again.

He saw her need to know, the desperation to know.

"What for?" He asked himself. He knew she would never take him back. He had made his mistakes and she'd made her decision.

"Just eat your breakfast and go," he suddenly closed himself off, thinking it wouldn't make a difference if he told her what he felt. He tried to fight for them, he had done his best to keep her, but all she did was throw him away like a used rag. It still hurt, knowing he did all he could do to keep her love but she ended up leaving him anyway.

"House… I-" Cuddy's eyes watered as she saw him beginning to draw his walls back up as he stood, ruffling Rachel's hair. He walked out of the room, leaving Cuddy and Rachel in it.

"Hows!" Rachel immediately called out, frowning.

"Where he go?" she asked Mama.

"House just went out to get air," Cuddy excused, caressing her daughter's cherubic face.

"Mama wan' more cakes?" Rachel asked, holding up a pancake for Cuddy.

She smiled and took the pancake into her mouth, playfully including her daughter's finger.

"No!" Rachel squealed, pulling her finger out.

"Go finish your pancakes, sweetie. We have to go," she dreaded having to say that.

"No go!" Rachel instantly objected.

"No go!" she repeated, her face turning flushed with both anger and sadness.

Cuddy embraced Rachel, brushing her hair and running her hand along her daughter's back. She didn't want to go either, but they had to start moving on from House. It broke her heart even more, knowing just how difficult it was. She hardly thought they would even be able to do so.

"Rachel, we have to go," Cuddy said softly to her crying daughter. When did Rachel become so clingy?

Rachel writhed in Cuddy's arms, breaking free from her mother's loose grip and sliding down from House's bed to the floor. She scampered from the bedroom in search of House, leaving her mother staring after her in sadness.

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><p>House heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet on his floor, knowing that Rachel was on the prowl for him. He'd heard her voice from where he sat on the kitchen island, taking bites from the breakfast Cuddy had made him.<p>

He moved to stand on his feet, knowing that the kid would undoubtedly jump into his arms again. Really, he should probably just scare the kid so she'd stop wanting him. Sadly, he couldn't find it in himself to do that.

Rachel finally saw him in the kitchen and sped her way towards him, hugging his legs tightly as she sniffled.

"No go," she said again, repeating the two words House had clearly heard her say from the bedroom, wanting to fight her mother from having to leave his miserable abode.

"Alright, come here you," House said, bending forward to lift her into his arms. Rachel immediately buried her face into the crook of his neck, still sniffling.

House walked with her to his piano. "You and your mom have to go, okay? Mama has work on Monday, and so do I."

"Nooo," Rachel whined, her fist tightening its hold on his shirt.

"How about this: I'll play the piano for you and promise to go to the park with you on Monday if you be a good monkey and go with Mama," he bargained, pulling his head back to tilt her chin up so she could meet his gaze.

"Really?"

House resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I promise, Rachel," he said. He surprised himself by not lying through his teeth. He'd like to get rid of the kid as soon as possible just so he couldn't get any more attached, but he didn't want her to experience any feelings of abandonment. He could do his best to see her less. He just wished it wouldn't be difficult to keep his promise.

And he hoped as hell it wouldn't backfire on him.

He'd have his thoughts as his worst enemies once again later tonight, when all was quiet and miserable, and when he had only his bottles of bourbon and never resting mind as company.

He sat down on the piano bench, Rachel still clinging onto him as he sat. At the moment, she was content to just be in his arms—usually she'd have harassed his keys by now.

House supported her back in the instance that she dozed off to his playing before he started moving the fingers of his right hand along the keys.

"Terrorize your mom for me, okay kid?" he whispered against her ear, earning a giggle muffled by his chest.

House sighed and closed his eyes, letting the notes flow from his fingertips to the piano, the soothing music calming his troubled and pained soul. Rachel hummed against his chest, far from complaining as she was slowly being lulled to sleep.

A while later, House stopped playing and he gazed down at the kid in his arms. She wasn't asleep, just rubbing a part of his shirt between her thumb and index finger. He'd noticed Cuddy's presence and his eyes turned to meet hers.

Words needn't be said as their mutual concern on how to handle things with regards to Rachel flitted through their eyes. Regret was one of the emotions that showed painfully clear through both their eyes and they shifted their gazes.

Cuddy was first to break the silence long after the last note dissipated into the air. "How did you convince her?" she quietly asked, walking towards the bench. House carefully hoisted Rachel from his lap to hand her to her mother. Rachel reluctantly allowed House to do so. Her eyes remained on him as she leant the side of her head on her mother's shoulder.

House took a while to stand, his leg suddenly feeling a little numb.

"You okay?" Cuddy asked, biting her bottom lip as she saw him struggle a bit.

Instead of throwing a snappy retort, House gave her a curt nod. He walked them to his door after Cuddy retrieved the one bag she'd brought, opting to change Rachel at home.

They stood in awkward silence behind House's door, their eyes painfully looking into one another's.

Rachel reached for House and Cuddy passed her to him. Rachel kissed House's cheek before burying her face in the man's neck as if she knew she wouldn't be seeing him as often as she wanted to from that moment on. "Lob you, House," she whispered softly, repeating the same words she had uttered last night. The kid really did love him, painful and heartwarming as it was to know that she didn't only love him because he told her a story.

"Bye, kid," he bid her farewell, hoping he'd be able to keep his promise to her. He wasn't one who always kept his promises, but he'd never lie to Rachel intentionally, not when it mattered so much to her.

Only then did he know that the kid had made him a better man, somehow. Just like her mother.

He gave her back to Cuddy whose lips were pursed, waiting for the right time to tell him something, he knew.

"I still love you," she confessed, if only to remind him that she didn't break things off from lack of love. Her heart still longed for him, for his touch and his love, but she just couldn't let herself be with him after what she went through during her health crisis. He'd saved her from a distance, yes, but she had needed him close. It hadn't mattered whether she had cancer or not, at that time in her life, it had been him that she needed most, but he couldn't even make himself be there for her to hold her hand without having to be under the influence of a traitorous drug.

As Rachel settled in her arms again, her hand held onto his warm bicep which told her his fever hadn't exactly broken. Her forehead creased slightly but she didn't bring it up. He'd know how to take care of himself, and she hoped that he would.

House's eyes softened for the quickest fraction of a second, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Coldly, he told her in a low voice, "I don't know if you ever did anymore."

The words he said killed her. He might as well have punched her, because she felt the wind get knocked out of her, leaving her at a loss for breath. But amidst the coldness of those electric blue eyes she saw the mask he was wearing, she saw the pained, broken shell of a man whose heart she ripped out of his chest.

House had never doubted her love, truth be told. He never doubted that she loved him probably as much as he did her. He's always doubted her trust and confidence in him, not as a doctor but as a partner.

"Thank you, for everything," she sincerely expressed her gratitude, changing the topic.

"I did it for Rachel."

"I know." They both knew it wasn't entirely for Rachel, but for the three of them as well.

Silence.

"You're welcome. Goodbye, Cuddy," he mumbled, opening the door for her.

"Bye, House," she said, remembering the last time she said it, the last time she'd said goodbye to him and their relationship, leaving him.

"Bye, Hows."

House could only watch as Rachel waved goodbye to him, a frown on her face.

Cuddy stepped out of his apartment's front door and released a heavy sigh as she walked away. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__MOAAAR? :D Loved it, liked it, hate me for breaking your hearts? Do let me know your thoughts! :) _

_**As always, thank you so much for reading! :D  
>Happy Easter!<strong>_


	4. Author's Note Please read

_**Something to tide you guys (well, I hope it does!) until I update, a sneak peek:::**_

Cuddy was on the phone with a donor when she saw House approaching her office. A frown immediately took up residence on her face when she saw his limp more pronounced.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Briggs, I'll have to call you back," she apologized, putting down the phone as soon as she heard the donor's reply. House walked in.

"I need a few days off…" He immediately jumped to his reason for barging into her office, looking at anything but her.

"Are you checking into a hotel with a vessel of cash and a plethora of hookers again?" Cuddy quickly shot, not really meaning to, but her mouth had already opened before she could stop herself.

House stared at her for a while before he suddenly lowered his head. He let out a low chuckle. "That was good," he said, meeting her gaze for a while. He had no excuse for himself. He had resorted to pay prostitutes after their break up—he didn't know any other way to forget about his pain and hurt.

Cuddy shook her head, regretting having opened her mouth. "It wasn't. I'm sorry."

He chose to get back on topic. "I need a few days off…"

"I heard you the first time. You have a patient. No." Cuddy knew he needed some time off and that he deserved it, but she couldn't let him take time off just like that again.

"You've always said I could handle things over the phone. Or was that just so I can babysit your daughter?"

Cuddy sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples; an action she'd been doing lately. "House. Finish your case, and _then _take a few days off."

"Okay," House agreed, nodding his acquiescence, knowing she won't allow him to leave. Besides, he wanted to get out of her office and her sight as soon as he could—he didn't trust himself much around her anymore. He turned to leave, grimacing as his leg shook a little.

"House," Cuddy called out, her brows furrowed.

House heaved in a deep breath, not turning to look at her. He stood there, waiting for Cuddy to talk. His eyes squinted shut upon hearing her stand to her feet, her heels clicking their way closer to where he stood.

"House, look at me," she whispered, glad that her blinds were shut, offering them privacy.

House reluctantly turned. She took another step closer to him, her hand trembling as she lifted it to press her palm against his chest. House wanted to stop her, but he craved her touch, the warmth and smoothness of her skin. He was powerless to stop her. He looked into her eyes, emotions swimming in his own cerulean orbs.

"You're not taking vicodin." It wasn't a question. She finally realized that he'd lied to her that night.

His eyes softened as he saw the mixture of hurt and relief in her beautiful eyes.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note:::<em>**

_H_ey, guys... I know I promised to update last Sunday. I got distracted by The Good Wife, which is an amazing show... in my opinion.

Again, thank you so much for the reviews, the subscriptions, and support! I would have finished the chapter tonight if something hadn't happened. Broken Strings 4 would have been updated tomorrow.

I took Mom to the ER earlier today and she ended up having to be confined for five days. Sadly, the hospital doesn't have WiFi. And I'm the only one who could look after her. I promise to update as soon as my mom's well and as soon as I finish the chapter. I'll probably be writing stuff down later when I get back there. I just went home to get a few thing. As soon as I got inside the house I rushed to the couch and cried into a throw pillow. I had to let everything out because I had to be calm and composed earlier. Anyway, I'm thankful it wasn't something TOO serious.

I hope you guys understand and that you'll still be here when I update. I also have yet to reply to the reviews.

I'm really sorry, you guys.

Stay safe and healthy!

Love,

_**Iane.**_


	5. IV

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Thank you, Penny S Cartwright for betaing! :D LOL, I forgot to thank you earlier. xD  
>Check out her fics, people! Awesome works! Oh, and Calm Like You is gonna be epic! Check it out! <strong>_

_In other news, Mom_'s a lot better now and was discharged last Friday. :)_ Thanks for the well-wishes!  
><em>

_**To everyone who reads and reviews my fanfics, thank you oh so very much! To the anonymous reviewers, signed or not, I appreciate the reviews so much!** :D I love you all! :D To those who haven't read my post-breakup one shot worth 18k words, LOL, check it out :) Turning , and to those worried about Absence, have no fear! I'm updating on Friday!  
><em>

_Now, on to the fic! FINALLY!_

**Again, fucking heartwrenching! I still hope you guys like it though! :) **

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>IV<em>**

.

**_Monday_**

Wilson walked into Princeton-Plainsboro unusually late when he noticed House signing in for the day. He tracked his best friend's gaze with a frown on his face. He was looking longingly at his ex-girlfriend from where she stood in the middle of the clinic, signing a file.

Wilson walked to stand beside his friend, signing in for work as well.

House took no notice of his presence.

"What if… you try asking her out again?" Wilson conversationally asked him.

House immediately tore his gaze from Cuddy and looked at Wilson. House lowered his head just as quickly, hurrying to finish filling out his card to escape his friend as soon as possible.

"House, you—"House didn't let him finish as he handed the receptionist his card and limped quickly towards the elevator.

Wilson handed the card he had just signed to the receptionist and hurried after House, glad that the elevator hadn't stopped at their level, yet. There was silence for a while which was broken when House released a heavy sigh, resigned to the fact that Wilson wouldn't stop bothering him without receiving an answer.

"I did ask her," he stated simply.

Wilson narrowed his eyes at House. "You sure you asked her? Your version of 'asking' isn't exactly—"

"If she wanted to give me another so-called chance, she would have—when I asked her _not _to go…" House confided in a whisper, his head lowered and his gaze focused on the elevator button blaring red LEDs at his eyes. Wilson's gaze softened and he sighed.

"I _begged_ her, Wilson," he revealed, instantly recalling and experiencing the pain again, raw and stinging. "I begged her not to go that night." Surprise took hold of Wilson, rendering him speechless for a while.

"Pathetic," House commented in a whisper. Bitterness should have laced his adjective, but Wilson couldn't find a single trace of it. Only pain emanated from House's revelation.

"House, I—"

House only shook his head as the bell finally dinged and the elevator's metal doors opened. The pair waited in silence for the people to evacuate the cart. House stepped in first after having allowed a few people in. As Wilson was about to get in, House blocked him from entering with his cane.

"House, what the—"

"Take the next one. Granny over here has enough germs to last me my entire lifetime," House smirked in his usual self, gesturing to the old lady beside him with a roll of tissue in her right arm and a mangled wad of tissue in her right hand propped under her nose.

"No offense," House sarcastically added after a beat, swinging his head down to look at the old lady who met his eyes. Wilson noticed the other passengers of the cart boring holes into the back of House's head with their glares.

"None taken," the elderly woman shrugged.

The elevator doors slid closed while Wilson looked on as House's face vanished from sight. It was a classic move to evade a topic for House.

Wilson sighed heavily, processing the information relayed to him. Instead of waiting for the metal box to reach the ground floor again, he turned and headed to Cuddy's office.

* * *

><p>"House <em>begged <em>you?" Wilson rhetorically asked in disbelief as he barged into Cuddy's office the exact same way House had always done in the past.

Cuddy looked up at him, already exhausted by the conversation that was to come. She pressed her index finger and thumb to her temples before taking a deep breath and looking up to meet Wilson's shocked and disappointed face.

"I'd appreciate it if you tell me now what House begged me for, because I really am busy today." She softened her gaze and leaned back against her ergonomic chair, waiting for Wilson to get it over and done with.

"The night you broke up with him, he begged you not to." Wilson clarified, troubled creases on his forehead.

"Why can't you just give him a second chance?" he asked her, his voice breaking the slightest bit. Seeing House so defeated everyday was hard. "You know he loves you more than anything, and you still love him, but you can't even bring yourself to—"

Cuddy shook her head, tired of Wilson and him trying to push her. "I _can't_," she said.

"You're afraid he'll hurt you again," Wilson stated.

"When didn't he?" Cuddy asked rhetorically, a small, bittersweet smile on her face. She shook her head, "Now, both of us really know how it'll go… It won't be fair for either of us, if I did."

"Why?"

"He just _can't _be what I need, Wilson. He won't ever be who I need him to be."

"Does the person you need exist at all?" Wilson asked her in a sigh.

"He did."

"Lucas wasn't who you _wanted _though," Wilson reminded her, knowing who Cuddy was referring to. "You needed him to a certain degree, but you didn't want him. He was a babysitter-with-benefits at best. You didn't even really love him. You broke up with him for House."

"I didn't want to marry someone when I was in love with somebody else. I still love House, I've told you that already. But I can't give him another chance, leading him on with me thinking he'd change. It won't be fair for him, and I'll just set myself up for hurt."

"He knew you'd eventually want him to change, Cuddy. He didn't care though; he did try to change himself for you."

A tear made its way down Cuddy's cheek. "I know," she acknowledged before swallowing and straightening in her seat. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip before looking into Wilson's eyes again, telling him, "But _trying_ won't be enough."

Wilson nodded in acknowledgement. He lowered his head before meeting Cuddy's eyes for a while.

"Then you're bound to be alone."

Wilson wasn't being vindictive.

He was only stating a fact.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Tuesday<em>**

"She's been a little less energetic lately, Dr. Cuddy," Marina informed her employer, with a frown being sent Rachel's way. Marina glanced at Rachel again before looking back at Cuddy and whispering, "She's been asking for Dr. House since yesterday. She didn't play as much while we were at the park."

Cuddy bit her lip before nodding. "Thank you for letting me know, Marina. I'll deal with it," Cuddy told her nanny before paying her and escorting her to the door.

"What's wrong, baby?" Cuddy asked Rachel as she reentered the living room, kneeling in front of her daughter and cupping her chin to make her meet her soft gaze.

"Hows…"

"House is at home, sweetie," she told her daughter, thinking that she was only looking for her ex.

What she didn't know was Rachel's disappointment at being lied to. House had promised her that he'd play with her at the park. He wasn't there. He didn't show up and play with her. He didn't show up today, either.

Rachel ran from her mother, scampering towards her bedroom and diving onto her couch, burying her face onto the plush upholstery.

She didn't like him anymore.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Wednesday<em>**

Cuddy was on the phone with a donor when she saw House approaching her office. A frown immediately took up residence on her face when she saw his limp more pronounced.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Briggs, I'll have to call you back," she apologized, putting down the phone as soon as she heard the donor's reply. House walked in.

"I need a few days off…" He immediately jumped to his reason for barging into her office, looking at anything but her.

"Are you checking into a hotel with a vessel of cash and a plethora of hookers again?" Cuddy quickly shot, not really meaning to, but her mouth had already opened before she could stop herself.

House stared at her for a while before he suddenly lowered his head. He let out a low, ominous chuckle. "That was good," he said, meeting her gaze for a while. He had no excuse for himself. He had resorted to paying prostitutes after their break up—he didn't know any other way to keep his mind from the pain and hurt. Truth be told, remembering it at that moment, he regretted having to resort to that. It didn't make him feel any better.

"It wasn't. I'm sorry." Cuddy shook her head, regretting having opened her mouth.

He chose to get back on topic, ignoring her unnecessary apology. "I need a few days off…"

"I heard you the first time. You have a patient. No." Cuddy knew he needed some time off and that he deserved it, but she couldn't let him take time off just like that again.

"You've always said I could handle things over the phone. Or was that just so I can babysit your daughter?"

Cuddy sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples; an action she'd been doing lately. "House. Finish your case, and _then _take a few days off."

"Okay," House agreed, nodding his acquiescence, knowing she won't allow him to leave as long as his case was still unsolved. Besides, he wanted to get out of her office and her sight as soon as he could—he didn't trust himself much around her anymore. He turned to leave, grimacing as his leg shook a little.

"House," Cuddy suddenly called out, her brows furrowed as a thought crossed her mind.

House heaved in a deep breath, not turning to look at her. He stood in the middle of her office, waiting for Cuddy to talk. His eyes squinted shut upon hearing her chair being pushed back, her heels clicking their way closer to where he stood.

"House, look at me," she whispered, glad that her blinds were shut, offering them privacy.

House reluctantly turned. She took another step closer to him, her hand trembling as she lifted it to press her palm against his chest. House wanted to stop her, but he craved her touch, the warmth and smoothness of her skin. He was powerless to stop her. He looked into her eyes, emotions swimming in his own cerulean orbs.

"You're not taking vicodin." It wasn't a question. She had finally realized that he had lied to her that night. His eyes softened as he saw the mixture of hurt and relief in her beautiful eyes.

He lowered his head, but he felt her cup his jaw, tugging his head up to make him look at her.

"Tell me I'm right," she pleaded, her eyes telling him of her need to know if she was right in her deduction.

"Why do you care?" he asked bluntly, retreating into his shell.

"Because!" she exclaimed in a whisper, a sudden burst of emotion she didn't mean.

She sighed and looked into his eyes, almost angry at herself for having to tell him why she cared. "I care because I loved you, I still love you. Even if… you and I aren't together anymore, I still care." She paused and took a deep breath, steeling herself as she told him, "I'll _always _care. I don't want you to be in pain." She knew he would always be in pain, but she didn't want pain to rule his life the way it had before. With her… he'd been, dare she say, happy, and his leg hadn't been taking the front-row seat in his life. She liked seeing him less troubled by his leg when they'd been together. There had been days when his pain took control, but it had been exponentially less than before. But Cuddy didn't allow herself to question her role in that (at least not at that moment); being the one who took his attention instead.

He wanted so bad to throw a scathing remark her way, but he was too emotionally exhausted to even try.

"I'll always be in pain," he chose to remind her instead.

"I _know_ that." He knew that she knew. And he knew what she'd meant.

Silence.

"Why did you lie to me? Why tell me you were still taking vicodin when you weren't?" Cuddy asked a moment later, remembering the heartache, dread and worry she had felt when he told her he was still using. Her pained eyes dared his heart to hurt her, to pierce her, stab her with something vindictive again.

House couldn't, not at that moment.

"Would it have made a difference? It wouldn't have."

"It would have," Cuddy negated in a whisper, running her thumb along his jaw. He hadn't trimmed his stubble yet. She couldn't bring herself to question the way he had been looking after himself these days in the fear that it'd make her come running back to him. She wouldn't—couldn't—allow him to self-destruct. Not after all the things he'd done to become something resembling normal, and sober. She wasn't worth his pain. She wasn't worth suffering for.

House chuckled bitterly, holding the hand caressing his cheek. "For you, it would have. It wouldn't have made a difference for me."

"So, that's how it's going to be now? You'll just…" she swallowed, unable to comprehend why he was doing it to her. "Hurt me? Keep poking me where you know it hurts." She was helpless to stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. She didn't allow them to fall though. Not yet.

If only she knew how it killed House, doing what he himself was used to doing.

"I'll keep hurting you," House genuinely told her, his eyes a storm of undecipherable ruminations and emotions, staring at the floor. "Whether you're with me or not, you'll always end up getting hurt. I've warned you from the beginning. You were right to stop things," he lifted his head to look into her eyes as he pulled her hand from his cheek, suddenly unable to stand the feel of her skin against his in fear of breaking down in front of her in her office.

She was right to have ended things. He wouldn't have let her go. He wouldn't have been able to.

"It doesn't matter if I still love you, Cuddy," his voice broke the slightest bit, his shoulders slumping in defeat, internally surprised at acknowledging it, "I'll always love you, but it won't be enough." She moved to embrace him, denying him his needed distance, a hand sliding to his nape while the other ran down his back. A sound resembling a sob escaped her lips as tears slid down her cheeks, staining his coat.

_It matters to me. _"I'm sorry," she murmured, her words choked by her own emotions. She was sorry for what? The question she asked herself caused another wave of painful sensations to strike her body.

She felt his arms wrap around her gingerly and she was reminded of the feeling; the security it gave her. She had always felt safe in his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, his scent pervading her nostrils and making her bite her lip to keep herself from remembering how it had felt, being in his arms, protected, safe and loved. Her eyes closed the moment she felt him bury his nose into her hair, savoring the last time he'd probably be able to hold her as close as he was holding her at that moment.

She could feel his heart hammering against his chest, the beats pounding against her ear. She felt him swallow, whether it was from uneasiness or emotion, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

The moment was broken when House's pager interrupted the intimate cocoon they found themselves in. They pulled from the embrace and looked into each other's eyes. Cuddy took a step back, wiping at her face and ignoring the tearstains she'd left on House's coat. It was as if nothing happened.

"So… this… vacation. Where are you going?" she diverted the topic, not sure whether she could handle another heart-to-heart.

"Take care of something," House answered her honestly.

"For how long?" she inquired, taking a step back.

"A few days," he repeated, "Maybe a week."

"Do I even want to know?" she asked, a smile almost forming in her lips.

House looked at her for a while. He shook his head.

"You can go as soon as you cure your patient," Cuddy said, squeezing his arm once before walking back to her desk and sitting back down on her chair.

"Thank you," he sincerely told her, grateful for the break.

"Please take care of yourself," she quietly asked of him, her eyes imploring him more than her words could.

House only nodded, making no promises. He walked out of her office, feeling, for the first time in weeks that they'd found closure.

A closure he didn't want nor was he ready to feel.

* * *

><p>Cuddy watched him walk away, the sight of his defeated gait piercing her hard. She bit her lower lip before wiping at her eyes again, making a mental note to check her makeup as soon as she could wrap her head around what had just happened.<p>

Was what happened, closure?

Why didn't it feel like it?

She thought that if and when closure came, she'd embrace it wholeheartedly.

She then realized, she wasn't as ready to let go as she led herself to believe.

If that was closure, she realized, she didn't want to feel it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thursday<em>**

He watched her play from a safe distance, keeping his promise to some degree. He didn't come to see her last Monday or the days that came after.

Her smile and laughter told him of her innocence, and a bubbling need to protect that overpowered him. He wanted Rachel to be happy. He knew Cuddy wouldn't be able to protect her from everything, and that he wouldn't be able to do the same, but as he watched her, the spark of protectiveness for that little person bloomed inside of him, making him wish he had the capability to do so.

"Hows!" He was too late to escape and forget that children were resilient; Rachel had spotted him standing behind a large tree. Heads turned his way and a few smiles met him as the toddler ran towards him and pulled at his hand, leading him to a bench.

"You here!" she brightened, her smile lightening up his miserable day. He had lost his patient.

"I'm here," he nodded, offering her a small grin.

"Play?" she invited him, tugging at his sleeve and turning to look at the slide. House glanced at Marina and gave her a nod before deciding to indulge the kid. The nanny only gave a small smile as she took in the image of her charge's face brightening up a great deal upon seeing the grouchy old man.

House exhaled before standing from the bench. It was the least he could do for not showing up punctually.

He followed her to the slide as she waited in line for her turn. House smirked at the squealing, giggling peanut-brained children amongst him, a scowl being forced _not _to leave his mouth at the other nannies gushing over their charges' amazing 'accomplishment' of going down the slide.

Rachel waved at him as she sat down, waiting for him to get nearer so he could sweep her off of it once she reached the landing. Rachel counted from one to three before moving forward so she could slide down, a squeal on her lips, mouth wide open as she waited for the moment House would catch her. When he did, she giggled mirthfully. She didn't expect him to do what the other people around her did when they caught the other kids, she just expected him to catch her. He did, and she was already happy for that.

House secured her in his left arm, propping her up on his hip. He smirked at her, asking, "What's next?"

"There." Rachel nodded towards the unoccupied sandbox, eyeing the shovels and pails.

"To the sandbox it is," House announced, eyeing the bench next to it.

House observed her as she contentedly played by herself, not pestering him to play with her; she seemed to be just as content to have him near her more than anything.

Rachel pulled at his hand again later, dragging him to the different play areas and places in the park. They eventually ended up back in the sandbox a foot or two away from the swings.

House continuously watched Rachel amuse herself with the sand and playthings surrounding her until a voice he knew so painfully well interrupted him and his thoughts.

"So… your vacation involved seeing my daughter?" Cuddy asked with a fond smile as she sat down on the bench beside him.

"Mama!" Rachel immediately called out, a radiant smile on her face. Cuddy smiled at her daughter, waving.

"You make it sound so wrong!" House joked, straightening in his seat in mock outrage, trying his best to seem unaffected by the lack of space between them. Were they back to that—the sexual tension? He honestly didn't want to be back to that square. It made it feel like nothing happened between them, like nothing mattered period.

He wondered whether he'd ever feel or accept just being friends with her again. As of the moment, he didn't want to be just friends. Like a year ago, being friends was the last thing he wanted them to be. If he was being selfish, he wouldn't have allowed her to let go the way she had. He would've tried harder to be who she needed him to be.

"You do know you look like a pedophile watching those kids, don't you?" Cuddy asked with a chuckle, breaking the sudden silence. She could only imagine the apprehensive looks of the other women around them, seeing House's tall and lanky frame mixed with his sometimes uncomfortable gaze and intimidating frown. House let out a snort, rolling his eyes.

"Those ladies over there," House gestured with a jut of his chin towards a group of ladies on a long bench, "seem to think otherwise."

Cuddy let out a soft chuckle before looking at him for a while. Something was off with him though; she knew he'd lost his patient earlier that day.

The look she gave him (not annoyed, surprisingly) told him the question she wanted to ask. House chose to save her the trouble of formulating the query.

She didn't have it in her to tell him he couldn't see her daughter, because she loved seeing them together. It made her feel nothing was different.

"I wanted to see her before I go," he informed her genuinely, eyes trailing back to Rachel.

Cuddy didn't know what to say. She had watched him play with her earlier when she arrived at the park. The sight of her daughter enjoying House's company was one she wished she could keep despite her and House's current status—whatever it was.

She had always felt something in her heart blossom whenever she saw House share parts of himself with Rachel without holding anything back. Same as the night they came to him. A part of her said he was unhealthy for Rachel (and her), but why did she feel that he was anything but?

"Swing!" Rachel suddenly announced, garnering the adults' attention. The toddler ran towards House, taking hold of his hand as she tugged him towards the swing, barely paying her mother any attention. "Push!" she exclaimed her demand as House settled her on the seat.

House exhaled through his nose, always self-conscious whenever Cuddy was around seeing how he interacted with her daughter. He felt like he was being put under a microscope.

Cuddy let out a smile as she took in the smile and giggles coming from her daughter as House gently pushed the swing for her, being mindful of the distance. Getting his leg hit by the seat was the last thing he wanted to happen, especially in front of the Cuddys.

Rachel eventually got tired of the swing and asked House to stop, letting him help her down. He had smirked then, knowing she could get down by herself. Her Houdini-like abilities in escaping her crib to snuggle and sleep in between him and Cuddy at ungodly hours had proven that.

House let her run off the moment her feet touched the ground, watching her run from him to a group of girls playing with each other. He occupied one of the swings, turning his head to look at Cuddy who moved her eyes from Rachel to meet his own. Her face was blank, but her eyes held in them words she couldn't say. He broke from their gaze and turned it elsewhere.

Cuddy stood from the bench and walked towards the swings, occupying the one next to him.

"Does it occur to you that I'm avoiding getting in close proximity with you?" Cuddy couldn't help but grin. She always found an uncomfortable House cute. He shot her a glare and she bit her lip, stopping the grin from widening.

House chose to watch Rachel instead. He was still internally perplexed about losing his patient. It told him of many things he wasn't anymore. He was neither the man with the answers nor was he the man with Cuddy. He'd never been interested in being 'good' until he let Cuddy know that he would always choose her over saving everyone.

He internally shook himself, trying to keep his mind off his failures. "I promised her I'd see her on Monday. I didn't. I wanted to keep my promise somehow," House suddenly revealed, his voice a barely heard whisper.

Cuddy was reminded of what Marina had told her a few days ago about Rachel being unusually sad. She finally knew why. She looked at House with a reassuring smile, "I don't think she minds you being late. Kids are resilient like that," she said. She never had to ask him at all to help her with Rachel. He was doing it on his own .She more than appreciated his effort. She only hoped that it wouldn't backfire on them.

"Yeah, I've forgotten."

"Thank you, for doing this for her. For us."

House looked into her sincere blue eyes before giving her a nod.

They remained quiet for a while, watching the only thing keeping them in contact with each other. The little person unmindful of just how much effect she had on her mother and House's relationship. If House wasn't a smart man he would suspect Rachel of purposely trying to get him and her mother back together.

Sadly, it seemed, it would take more than a little girl to reunite them.

"Move!" A boy, green eyed and curly-haired, suddenly stood in front of House, his cheeks puffing out as he waited for the man to surrender the seat to him.

"No." House said, staring the kid down and remaining seated on the swing. Cuddy frowned at him, waiting to chastise him if needed.

The kid frowned and walked away, shoulders slumped at being denied access to the swing he always used. Cuddy's frown remained intact.

A few minutes later another toddler walked up to House, this time incessant in making House move. "Go 'way!" he shouted with a huff, his brown eyes glaring daggers at him.

"No." House repeated, glaring right back.

"Will you push me?" Cuddy suddenly requested with a small smile, and making both boys look at her with arched brows.

"What?" House's head shot to her, an eyebrow raised. The toddler in front of him crossed his arms on top of his chest, waiting impatiently for the large man to evacuate the swing.

"Push me." It was an order now. House rolled his eyes. All it took was a glare from the woman to make him stand and walk behind her. The toddler triumphantly grinned up at House before sitting on the seat he had left.

"Will you help me up if you knock me over with that ass?" He sarcastically questioned, smirking behind her as he started pushing her. Yes, it seemed they were back to where they started: Sexual tension, bantering, bickering, and whatnot. He hated the feeling, he thought again. Just being friends with her again. A year ago and up until that moment, being everything but friends with her, truly, was and would be the last thing he wanted them to be. He only wished he could do something, anything about it.

A few minutes later she stopped and sat quietly, looking wistfully at Rachel who had turned to look at her mother with a wide smile while House had been pushing her on the swing.

"House?"

She didn't wait for a reply, she knew he was and would be listening.

"If I didn't…" she started off quietly, trailing off almost at once.

She took a deep breath. She had to know, but she probably already knew the answer to her forthcoming question.

"If I didn't leave—if I… stayed…"

He was quiet, listening with bated breath for her to complete her question.

"Would this have been us, now?"

"'This' being?" He knew exactly what 'this' meant. He hardly knew the answer himself.

"Playing 'house'… Together, watching Rachel play in the park. You, pushing me on a swing. You caring about my daughter more than I ever thought you could…" She turned her head to meet his eyes.

Choosing to be honest, he answered her, "Probably not," because he didn't realize just how much Rachel had come to matter to him until he was cut off from her life in one surprising and heartbreaking goodbye.

She accepted his answer which was the same answer she thought he would say. She wasn't surprised. She turned to look at Rachel again, content to just watch her.

House made his way to the bench having nowhere else to sit.

His eyes trailed from Cuddy to Rachel. How much would it hurt him to ask for another shot at happiness with them? How far down would he fall if he asked Cuddy to give him another chance and she denies him that chance? It was probably a given, how it would end, but he wanted another chance nonetheless.

A while later Cuddy sat down beside him again, the silence a cross between uncomfortable and comfortable.

House turned his head to look at her and she did the same. Their eyes stayed glued to each other for a while, blue oceans touching Cuddy's sapphire ones. Without thinking, House held his hand up to frame her face, her jaw molding perfectly into his palm. Her eyes morphed into the slightest bit of confusion and longing as she questioned this, her eyebrows arching the slightest bit. She fought hard to keep herself from fluttering her eyes and licking her lips. Oh, how she craved feeling the pressure of his lips on hers again. He seemed to have read her mind.

House tentatively leaned forward, their lips barely touching, but Cuddy was unable to contain herself and her yearning for him and his touch. She met him halfway and their lips met, as if reuniting after years of separation. It wasn't an outburst of passion and desire, it was everything but.

It was tender.

His lips enveloped her bottom lip gently while her upper lip pressed down on his, wishing they had all the time in the world. Sadly, they didn't, and their kiss lasted but a few seconds.

It was quick and tender.

House pulled away, missing the contact immediately. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. What he wouldn't give to call her his again.

"Can't we…" he whispered, pulling away to be able to look into her eyes and implore her. "Give me another chance, Cuddy," he pleaded in a quiet whisper, his thumb stroking her jaw. Her eyes watered and his heart dropped as she took in his request and shook her head.

"Please..."

She wanted to say yes, oh how she wanted to say yes, but her mind won over her heart and she just couldn't go through everything again. She just couldn't bring herself to give him another chance. She knew it wouldn't be fair to either of them. She hated how redundant things between them were, but it was the truth. They'd only end up hurt and heartbroken if she gave in now. She was doing them both a favor by denying him the chance. She'd been wrong in thinking he'd change—she'd been wrong in telling him she didn't want him to.

"I can't," she murmured, shaking her head. She thought they'd had closure. Closure probably wouldn't ever win over them. "I want to. God, House, I want to… You deserve it, but I…" she trailed off, choosing to remain quiet. Her eyes absorbed the pain in his eyes and her heart shattered.

"You're only asking now because you're vulnerable," she whispered suddenly, realizing his vulnerability from losing yet another patient made him ask now. She remembered the afternoon almost a year ago when he assumed that she had only come because she saw him and the way he'd handled Hannah, his patient. He'd asserted that "with one stupid moment with a dying girl in a pile of rubble" she thought he could change. He hadn't been wrong, but she told him she didn't want him to change...

"You lost your patient, and I—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he cut her off, looking away to hide his eyes from her.

Their conversation had jumped from one topic to another, and they were both fighting to keep up with it. Cuddy took a deep breath and cupped his cheek, making him look at her. She desperately wanted him to know he could still trust her. If not with his heart, then he could at least trust her as a friend.

"You did _everything _you could," she stressed, knowing that he really did his best as she always made it a priority to be updated with House's cases. "There was nothing you and your team could have done." He shook his head, really not wanting to talk about him failing his patient.

"I _need _you to know that you could still talk to me," she reminded him, her eyes stern but soft. "You still have me and Wilson."

House pulled away, relinquishing the feel of her hand on his face. He stood from the bench and scanned the area for Rachel. When he saw her he looked back at Cuddy, his eyes close to watering, the dam close to breaking.

There was nothing else he could say or do to make her change her mind.

Knowing that, all he could do was negate her before making his way to where Rachel was to say goodbye.

"I _had _you," he corrected in a defeated whisper, looking one last time into her eyes before walking away.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Hmm...__ Loved it, liked it, hate me for still breaking your hearts in this chapter? Drop a rev and do let me know your thoughts!  
><em>

_**Thanks for reading! :D**  
><strong>Have a great week!<strong>  
><em>


	6. V

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. AND IF I OWNED IT, I WOULDN'T HAVE UNDERUTILIZED THEIR BRILLIANT CHARACTERS...**

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Thank you to Penny for betaing this! Love you, love! I recommend everyone to read Calm Like You. Awesome story, great writing, amazing plotlines... **_

_This had been finished since last Monday and I would have had it updated already if I wasn't intent on having it beta'd. Was going to post it after 'After Hours' but Penny and I got into a little bit of fun. No sarcasm. Really, it was a crazy fun miscommunication brought upon by stress. ;) _

_**I guess everyone knows what just happened... No more Lisa Edelstein and no more Cuddy on HOUSE**. It's been such a fucking sad twenty four hours and I'm terribly depressed about it(not to the point of neglecting myself, if I may just add)... _

_I have never allowed anything to come across me and my writing for you guys, but GOD, this bombshell was just so lethal! I've been thinking of giving up writing for House and Cuddy the past few hours. _

_But I found that, writing them would be the only thing I could do to make myself feel as if Cuddy/LE wasn't leaving the show. I'm am most definitely not watching S8 without Cuddy. Not because of the possibility that she could get back with House (okay, at least not entirely) but because she's been there from the get-go, and I just can't comprehend HOUSE without Cuddy, one of the cornerstones of the show, AND less Wilson. It's just incomprehensible where they go from here..._

**_Anyway, I have decided... As long as you guys are here for me, I'll be here for you... Deal? :) _**

**Hope you like this! Some hope for us hopeless people... **

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>V<em>**

.

_"I __need __you to know that you could still talk to me," she reminded him, her eyes stern but soft. "You still have me and Wilson."_

_House pulled away, relinquishing the feel of her hand on his face. He stood from the bench and scanned the area for Rachel. When he saw her he looked back at Cuddy, his eyes close to watering, the dam close to breaking._

_There was nothing else he could say or do to make her change her mind._

_Knowing that, all he could do was negate her before making his way to where Rachel was to say goodbye._

_"I __had __you," he corrected in a defeated whisper, looking one last time into her eyes before walking away._

Before House could get any closer to where Rachel was, he suddenly saw her stand to her feet before running straight at him. She quietly whimpered as she buried her face into his good leg, making House frown, wondering what had happened to her.

He tore his gaze away from Rachel to reluctantly look at Cuddy who he knew, without a doubt, was watching him. Their eyes met and he shrugged at her unvoiced question of "what happened?" He inwardly sighed when he saw her stand and make her way toward them. It was the last thing he needed—being close to her.

Cuddy dreaded the moment Rachel ran to House again. She was hoping she won't have to deal with it, but when House looked at her, she knew something wasn't right. She frowned when she saw Rachel's flushed exposed ear. She stood to her feet and approached them to find out what had happened, pushing her broken heart to the background to deal with what was more important than her heart at that moment.

House held on to Rachel's shoulders and carefully knelt in front of her. He tilted her chin to make her look at him and a part of him got stung at the tears in her eyes. His brows drew together as he frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked her in concern, his voice soft and his lips thinning into a line, awaiting her answer.

Rachel sniffled and brought up her hand to show him what was wrong. House's frown remained intact, but he let out a somewhat relieved sigh upon seeing that it wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be. He gently held onto her hand, assessing the mild abrasions and one small cut on her left hand, and wondering how she got it.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked, looking at Rachel's hand which House showed her without meeting her gaze. Cuddy frowned and moved to kiss Rachel's forehead. "Oh I'm sorry, baby," she said before pulling away. Before she could say anything, House stood and lifted Rachel into his arms, making his way to his car. She followed them without questioning what House was doing and where he was taking her daughter.

House popped his car's trunk and secured it, making sure it wouldn't fall before he deposited Rachel in his trunk. She sat Indian style and waited for him, looking at her mother with a pout.

"Can I help you with anything?" Cuddy asked House in a quiet whisper. She wasn't really surprised when she didn't receive an answer.

House retrieved a bottle of water from his car and set it beside Rachel. He then pulled the first aid kit in his trunk nearer to him and prepared the things he'd need, aware of two Cuddy women's eyes on him.

"House, I could do it, if you need to leave now," Cuddy softly told him, not wanting him to do this just because Rachel ran to him. If he had to be somewhere, she didn't want him to be late at her and Rachel's expense.

Truthfully though, the longer she saw him putting her daughter _first_, the more she hurt.

"No!" Rachel somehow understood what she said and her cheeks turned another deeper shade of pink. "No! No! No!" she complained, tears crocodile tears streaming down her face. Cuddy could only sigh and watch as Rachel looked at House longingly, as if he was already gone.

House would have smirked, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to talk to Cuddy or even be at the same place with her at that moment. His heart and his pride had taken enough beatings. He could only take so much.

House ignored Cuddy's surprised gaze as he wiped away Rachel's tears with his own handkerchief, playfully wiggling a finger under her nose, making her stop crying at once.

"Gimme," he then whispered, his hand stretched out. Rachel instantly stretched out her arm to him, her hand settling on top of his palm. House cleansed her hand as best as he could with the water he retrieved from his car, ignoring Cuddy's presence altogether.

"Want a sucker?" House asked the little tyke. Rachel nodded in an instant, "Yes!" she said, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of a red sucker. House always gave her suckers… when Mama wasn't around. They were also _red_ suckers.

House dug into his pocket and pulled out a red sucker. He tore at the wrapper before handing it to Rachel who grinned as she took it with her uninjured hand. Her eyes then widened before looking at her mother who sat on the edge of the trunk, making the car dip a bit at the rear. She pulled the sucker from her mouth and grinned guiltily at her mother.

Cuddy tried her best not to smile back, but the corner of her mouth tugged up a bit, forming into a lopsided grin. She then clicked her tongue before moving her gaze to House who continued his work on Rachel's hand.

"This is gonna sting a bit, Rachel," House suddenly told Rachel who frowned. "I need you to be a brave little monkey, okay?" Rachel hesitantly nodded.

House honestly didn't care about other people's pain because he was sure as hell theirs would never come close to the pain he felt and had been living with every day for years. But he sincerely cared about a few people's pain, no matter how rare he showed it. Wilson's, Cuddy's, and Rachel's were probably tied at first. Besides, he would rather not have the kid have another crying fit. His old ears could only take so much torture.

House grabbed the antiseptic and slightly soaked a cotton ball with it. Rachel squirmed a little, but she didn't cry.

Cuddy watched in awe at how gentle House was, at how careful and caring he was being. If it had been some other kid, he'd have been annoyed by now just from the squirming. She watched his eyes focus on Rachel alone, as if she wasn't even around. She watched him cater to her daughter's wound, thinking how she'd missed this part of him… How, in the months that followed after he first started babysitting for her, she'd never seen this side of him. The last few days had been heavy on her heart, heavy _and _eye-opening... and painful. She was seeing a side of him she'd only seen quick glimpses of before.

She suddenly looked away, emotions flooding her heart and soul.

She couldn't keep doing this to herself and to him. She couldn't change her mind. She couldn't be with him. She had _made _her decision! She couldn't string him along. She would be setting them both up for hurt.

She wasn't going to keep Rachel from seeing him anymore though. As long as House would like to, she won't stop them from seeing each other. At some point, surely, she and House would be able to get back to their old ways. The way they'd been as friends before they became lovers.

Sometimes she wondered though. She wondered whether they'd be able to reach a point where they'd be able to look at each other without remembering the pain they had caused one another. The pain _she _hadcaused him.

"There, all done," House suddenly announced, pulling Cuddy from her reverie. She noticed that House had already dressed Rachel's hand.

Rachel pulled her hand back to examine the dressing before smiling up at House and standing up. She leant forward on her toes to fall into his arms, embracing him. He made her feel better and she wanted to thank him.

"Thank you," she whispered with a smile, hugging him tighter.

"Okay, okay, you're welcome! Now let me breathe," he quietly joked, being slightly uncomfortable with Cuddy only a foot away. Rachel giggled and let go of him, plopping back down on the trunk and showing her mother the hand House had just finished wrapping up.

Cuddy smiled at her daughter before looking up at House, meeting his cerulean gaze.

"Thank you," she sincerely told him, her eyes close to watering when all he did was nod and immediately severed their gaze by looking somewhere else.

"Come on," House suddenly spoke, grabbing Rachel by the hip and slinging her on his hip, making his way to Cuddy's car.

"Are we going home?" Rachel questioned with an affronted pout.

"Yes," House answered her with a smirk. He set her down once he reached the car and waited for Cuddy to unlock the doors with her fob. When she did, House opened the door and settled her into the car seat, strapping her securely.

"You're not going with us?" she asked him, lowering her head for a while before meeting his eyes again, sadness radiating from them.

"No, Rachel," he said, surprising himself at the sadness in his voice.

Rachel pouted and sighed, letting him go.

"Okay," she mumbled in defeat.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he said, cursing himself the moment he gave her hope. Hope he wished wouldn't be dashed when he didn't come see her again. He fluffed her hair and smiled once more before he moved from the car. Rachel waved at him with a small smile.

He walked towards his car, but Cuddy called to him and he once more stood rooted to his spot. Cuddy didn't know what came over her, but she just needed to be close to him at least a final time. And she felt that she needed to voice some of her thoughts and feelings. She just had to.

He tensed the moment he felt her slender arms wrap around his waist.

"Cuddy, what are—"

"I don't know how I could ever find the words to tell you how amazing I think you are, to her. And I'm sorry. I really am, House. I'm sorry for letting go," she whispered against his back, wishing he'd find it in himself to see that there was more to him than misery. "You can see her anytime you want," she added softly.

"And I hope… we could be friends again sometime…"

"I don't think we could," House whispered, gently prying her arms from around him.

"House, please let me go," she implored. How could she move on knowing he couldn't? How could she try moving on when he wouldn't even try? It shouldn't be her problem, but she didn't want him to just stop trying to find some semblance of happiness just because she broke him.

"I don't think I can," he whispered, opening his car door. He couldn't believe that she could even ask that of him.

How could he let her go when he had learned to love her deeply? When he had experienced loving her more than a friend?

He got in his car and carefully drove off, leaving Cuddy rooted to her spot and watching as his car disappeared around the corner.

She then moved to see Marina strapping Rachel back in the car seat.

"I thought House already—"

"She got herself out and watched you and Dr. House talk," Marina spoke, smiling down at Rachel who was slightly guiltily grinning.

"All right, Houdini, let's go home," Cuddy softly told Rachel, entering the car, starting it and driving back home.

"Mama…?"

"Yes, honey?"

"You and Hows fight?" she asked, her bottom lip jutting out.

Cuddy saw her face and couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft smile. But she shook her head in answer to her daughter's question.

"No, baby," she told the truth, "House and I weren't fighting." They were only trying to find a way to fix things, to be friends again—well _she _was.

Rachel trusted her mother's words and seemed satisfied with her answer, hearing what she wanted to hear. She relaxed against her car seat and waited for them to arrive at the house.

Cuddy watched Rachel from the rear view mirror, gauging her reaction. She was glad Rachel accepted her answer with utmost trust. She took a deep breath and wished that things would get easier soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cuddy's office, Saturday, 10 AM<strong>_

Wilson knocked on Cuddy's door before poking his head into her office. Cuddy looked up from her paperwork.

"Got a minute?" he asked, Cuddy nodded.

"Need anything?" she asked.

"Work related? No," Wilson answered, shrugging.

"Oh. What's up?" she asked, slightly disappointed that she'd hear about House again so early in the morning.

"House asked me to give you this," Wilson said, confused himself at House's thoughtful gesture. He dug into his lab coat's pocket and pulled out a key ring with two or three keys dangling from it. He placed it n front of her and sighed.

"Those are the keys to his apartment," Cuddy frowned, brows meeting. "Why would I need his keys? Why would he even _want _to give me his keys?" she asked, really confused by the gesture.

"He said that you could take Rachel to his place if she throws a tantrum over him while he's gone," he said, then added with a small chuckle, "He also said that it'd save you from having to invest in hearing aids in the future."

Cuddy let out a small smile, taking the keys in her hand. She couldn't deny how thoughtful it was. She inspected the keys, knowing each one's use by heart. She sighed and looked up at Wilson, "You know I won't use this, right?"

Who was Wilson kidding? Of course her pride wouldn't allow her to take Rachel to House's place. Besides, it'd also make her feel guilty. The only way she'd cave in was if she wouldn't be able to control Rachel's tantrums—which she _should_, she knew.

"I know," Wilson shrugged, "But at least hold on to it."

Cuddy nodded. "Thank you, Wilson," she said, meeting his eyes with a small smile.

"I find it ironic, how he's more attached to Rachel now that he isn't with you. He's tried to get back together, but here he is, still thinking of her," Wilson suddenly said, his hand gesturing alongside his words. "I don't know, Cuddy. But I really do think you're making a mistake in letting go now. No matter how much you think he hasn't changed, he truly has. I know he deserved what he got, but he also deserves a second chance."

"I just…" Wilson trailed off, sighing and rubbing a hand to the back of his neck. "I just hate seeing him so defeated. It's been years since he's loved someone. I've never seen him as happy as he was when you were together."

"We've been through this," Cuddy whispered, looking away. "Thank you for the keys and the message, Wilson," she whispered, putting an end to their conversation.

"I hope you really want this, Cuddy. I care about your happiness just as much as I care about his," Wilson said before turning around and exiting her office, hoping as hell Cuddy would try and think things through real hard.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Two days later, House's apartment, 4:30 PM<strong>_

"Looking for House, lady?" House's landlord asked the woman standing on House's doorstep. He'd heard the relentless knocking and opted to check it out himself instead of having to deal with people complaining about it later and holding it against him.

"I wouldn't if I wasn't knocking on his door, now, would I?" the woman replied in a sarcastic tone, her voice having a regal air to it.

"He left for a few days, Ma'am," the man replied, choosing to ignore the woman's obvious ego and sharp tongue.

"And you know this because…?" the woman gestured with her hand.

"I'm his landlord."

"Oh," the woman said with a sudden sparkle in her eye. "Then I suppose you have duplicate keys to the apartment?" she inquired with slightly feigned hopefulness in her voice.

The landlord slightly narrowed his eyes at the woman and asked, "And you're House's…?"

"I'm his mother." Her answer was quick to come, but unhurried, making her very believable.

"Nice to meet you." _Your__ son is an ass, Ma'am. I think I'm looking at whom he got it from._

"I sincerely cannot reciprocate the sentiment, but thank you," the woman smiled condescendingly.

"And I'm sorry, Mrs. House, but your son revoked my right to a spare," the landlord smirked before adding, "against my will, of course."

"Of course," she replied, sighing. Why wasn't she surprised?

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Do you have wine?" she asked expectantly, a perfectly plucked eyebrow arching elegantly.

"I'm sorry, no," the landlord replied sheepishly.

The woman ran her hand through her hair before sighing and looking at the landlord.

"Well, then no, I'm afraid there's nothing else you could do for me," she told the man, glancing at Greg's door one last time before turning to face the landlord again.

"Thank you for your time," she said before exiting the building.

Arlene Cuddy hailed a cab, telling the driver to bring her to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

She had a bone to pick with her daughter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cuddy's office, 5:45 PM<strong>_

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Cuddy asked her mother, embracing her and pulling back. "Is everything okay?" she asked in concern, having learnt her lesson in waving off symptoms her mother tells her.

"Oh, nothing," Arlene Cuddy breathed before giving her daughter a smile and clasping her hands together.

"I just wanted to visit my granddaughter. I thought I'd stop by your office so we can go home together."

"Okay," Cuddy tentatively said, suspicious of her mother's motives. Did she know? Did her sister have something to do with this? She honestly didn't think so, but she couldn't help but wonder. "Well, I have a few more files to go through before I call it a day. You sure you want to wait?"

"No, no," Arlene said, swooshing her hand and slicing the air before her nonchalantly. Cuddy arched a brow, but her face fell in shock and confusion upon hearing her mother's next words, accompanied with a challenging sparkle in her eye and a terrifyingly calm tone in her voice.

"It's actually better. We could start talking about my suing you, House, and this hospital for malpractice."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ Got hope? Liked it, loved it, still depressed?  
>Please leave a review and let me know what you think! And please make me feel better...<p>

**Thank you for reading and I hope you guys stick around! Love you all!**


	7. VI

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: To my sweet, amazing, and crazy beta, Penelope S Cartwright, thank you so much for editing and the input! Luuuvs ya!  
>I recommend reading Calm Like You. Awesome story that has a potential for fucking epic greatness! ;D<strong>_

_Hope you guys leave a comment or review and tell me to update **_VERY _soon** because I've got something up my sleeve! ;D**  
><strong>_

**Enjoy the Arlene-induced insanity! Oh, and enjoy the length(longest BS chapter yet!)! :D Or not. xD 6.8k words.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>VI<em>**

.

**_Cuddy's office, 5:45 PM_**

_"Mom, what are you doing here?" Cuddy asked her mother, embracing her and pulling back. "Is everything okay?" she asked in concern, having learnt her lesson in waving off symptoms her mother tells her._

_"Oh, nothing," Arlene Cuddy breathed before giving her daughter a smile and clasping her hands together._

_"I just wanted to visit my granddaughter. I thought I'd stop by your office so we can go home together."_

_"Okay," Cuddy tentatively said, suspicious of her mother's motives. Did she know? Did her sister have something to do with this? She honestly didn't think so, but she couldn't help but wonder. "Well, I have a few more files to go through before I call it a day. You sure you want to wait?"_

_"No, no," Arlene said, swooshing her hand and slicing the air before her nonchalantly. Cuddy arched a brow, but her face fell in shock and confusion upon hearing her mother's next words, accompanied with a challenging sparkle in her eye and a terrifyingly calm tone in her voice._

_"It's actually better. We could start talking about my suing you, House, and this hospital for malpractice."_

"Excuse me?" Cuddy asked, confusion painting her face as she tried to recompose herself. With no luck—she was still gaping at her mother.

"I don't know if you've seen my new best friend," Arlene raised the cane beside her so her daughter could see. "Seems awfully coincidental, don't you think?" Arlene smirked.

"Mom," she sighed, sitting up straight on her chair, preparing herself for what was to come, "We've talked about this."

"I think I've already told you this isn't personal."

"You're free to stay at my house while you get better, spend more time with your granddaughter," Cuddy repeated, wanting to mend things.

"Lisa, I don't know if you can actually hear me or not, but if I was interested in your offer, I think I'd have accepted it by now and we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Cuddy's mother told her, her hands accompanying her words.

"Seems you still have a lot of papers to push," Arlene said, gingerly standing up. "I'll go ahead of you and drop Rachel a visit."

"Stay at my place, at least for tonight, Mom," Cuddy pleaded softly, not wanting anything to happen to her.

"Thank you, Dear, but I've checked into a hotel nearby. I'll head there once I've visited Rachel," Arlene waved off her daughter's thoughtful offer.

"Mom… Don't do this."

Arlene scoffed. "What am I doing?" she rhetorically asked her daughter with a challenging gaze.

Cuddy didn't answer, just sadly stared at her mother.

"I'll be back on Wednesday, with my lawyer. Be sure Greg is here. I'd like to try and settle this thing with the both of you present," Arlene said before limping her way out of her daughter's office with a mischievous grin on her regal face.

Cuddy sighed as she watched her mother go.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thirteen's apartment, 8:10 PM<em>**

"Home, sweet home," House said as they pulled up in front of Thirteen's apartment building. He looked at her, studying her face as she just sat there, staring out the window.

House broke the silence once again telling her, "You owe me 87 bucks for gas." His brows furrowed when she still hadn't made a single move to speak or get out of the car.

House sighed, lowering his head once before looking at her.

"I'll kill you," he whispered, causing the younger doctor to look at him in confusion.

"When the time comes… if you want me to," he clarified, sincerely meaning every word. He would be there for her and end her suffering, if it came down to that.

Thirteen looked at him, speechless and holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. Her silence and speechlessness must have made him uncomfortable because he quickly added, "I'll do it now if you like. I think I've got a baseball bat in the back."

"I'll see you Monday," Thirteen finally spoke, still fighting back tears, grateful that House had actually heard her and felt for her. She settled on letting him know she'd be back for work on Monday, unable to find the right words to let him know how thankful she was.

House nodded in agreement and watched as she got out of the car and entered her building.

House sighed and drove off with the slightest bit of satisfaction in at least being able to be there for somebody.

* * *

><p><strong><em>9 PM<em>**

House groaned as his telephone rang whilst he was immersed in the soothing heat of water that filled his tub. He waited for it to stop ringing, but it never did, so he waited for the person to just drop a message and leave him the hell alone.

"Dr. House? It's Dr. Keller, your mother's doctor, if you don't remember. Please call me back if you have the time. Blythe was admitted earlier today. We've been trying to reach you," the answering machine amplified Keller's voice once the ringing had stopped.

House immediately got out of the tub and made his way to the phone after wrapping a towel around his waist. Once he reached the phone, however, Keller had finished relaying her message.

"Damn it!" House cursed in a whisper.

He reached for the phone and dialed Keller's number, waiting for her to answer.

"It's House," he immediately cut in once Keller answered, not waiting for her greeting and to inquire who was on the line.

"Dr. House, thank you for calling back. Blythe was brought in about five hours ago. She had a heart attack and fell, according to a neighbor who called 911," Keller started, knowing how the older man wanted things told to him straight to the point and in detail. "Dr. House, you still there?" she inquired, noticing how silent the other line was.

"Yes, go on," House confirmed.

"We've already checked, and she didn't get a concussion, thankfully. She's still unconscious, though. I'm ordering a few more tests to make sure there's no other problem lurking around before I discharge her. Also, I was wondering if you'd like to fly over and be with her?" On the last part, she asked tentatively.

House thought about it and internally sighed. He hadn't seen his mother in months. And the last time he saw her was a very surprising visit.

"Sure," he answered softly, "I'll be on the next flight out." He felt a small weight lifted from his heavy heart and knew he made the right decision. He wanted to be there for his mother. He wanted her to wake up with her son by her side for once.

"Alright then," Keller whispered with a soft smile. "I'll keep an eye on her. Don't worry," she assured him.

"Thank you," he said before hanging up.

He heaved in a deep breath then released it. He was going to have to talk to Cuddy again. He could try to call Human Resources, but every employee there hated his guts—he couldn't blame them, really.

He checked his clock for the time and sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop to check for available flights to Virginia—he sure as hell wouldn't be driving that long.

An hour and a booked flight later, he was twirling his home phone in his hand, deciding on whether to call Cuddy or just relay the information to Wilson so that the good oncologist could be the one to inform their boss.

He sighed and pressed down speed dial number one, Cuddy's number.

"Hello?"

"It's me," House started, unsure of how to ask her for a few more days off.

"You're back, I take it?" she said, putting the TV on mute.

"Yeah…" he answered.

"House—"

"Cuddy, I—"

They both stopped, but nobody grinned or let out a gusty chuckle. They only remained silent.

"I was wondering if I could have a few more days?" he chose to just go ahead and ask.

"House, didn't you have—"

"My mom's been admitted to a hospital." He quietly waited for her answer.

It came immediately. "Oh my god, is she okay?" Cuddy inquired, genuinely concerned.

"She fell from a heart attack," House answered. "She's stable, but still unconscious."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he answered.

"I booked a flight to Virginia… I'm the only one she has," he added, feeling worse for being a terrible son. "Can I have a few more days off..?" he tentatively asked again.

"Of course," Cuddy answered immediately, her frown deepening as her concern grew.

"Thank you," House whispered.

Silence descended upon them until Cuddy asked him, "Do you want me to come with you?" She knew it was unnecessary, but the feeling of having to be there for him won over their current situation. She wanted to be there for him, as a friend.

"It'd be better if you didn't," he answered sincerely.

"We'd be even," he added in a quiet whisper.

"House, I—"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you the way you wanted me to be," he shook his head, still hating himself for having done what he did.

Cuddy felt tears stinging her eyes as she nodded. She had already forgiven him; she just never had the guts to tell him.

"But you were there," she finally acknowledged, her whisper barely audible. "I'm sorry," she murmured as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped at it and managed to let out a small sob at the sudden feeling of liberation she felt upon apologizing.

House allowed himself to let out a small smile, glad of the weight that had lifted from his heart and his shoulders upon hearing Cuddy had forgiven him. He may never be able to undo what he did, but he was thankful to have finally gained her forgiveness.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he softly told her. "It wasn't your fault," he chose to free her from any guilt she may have still harbored. She had every right to break up with him after what he had done.

"I'll let you go," he whispered.

"Have a safe flight," she told him; a part of her hoping with everything she had that he was merely talking about his flight.

"Cuddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," he whispered, bidding her goodbye before hanging up.

* * *

><p><strong><em>11:20 AM<em>**

"House!"

"God," House muttered under his breath before turning to look at his landlord with an expectant look on his face, waiting for the man to start talking. "Yes?" he asked.

"Your mother dropped by earlier today," he told the old doctor.

House's confusion showed on his face. How could his—

"You didn't tell me your mother walked with a cane, too," the guy quipped, smirking.

House smirked back. "It runs in the family," he replied. He thought about it for a while, and then his forehead creased as he asked, "What did my mother look like?"

"About five feet, five-to-seven inches, I think. Blonde hair, pointy nose… snarky, snobby attitude. No questioning she's your mother, actually," the man replied, slightly chuckling.

House's eyes widened for a split-second before he cleared his throat.

"Could have been a burglar," he gruffly replied, closing and locking his front door.

The man turned serious, a pensive look on his face. "The woman who was here today wasn't your mother?" he asked seriously.

"My mother was hospitalized in Virginia earlier today," House answered, "I'm on the next flight out to visit her," he finished before leaving the landlord with his mouth agape.

Cuddy's mother, House thought, a smirk on his face. He was about to reach the knob to the building's front door when he stopped and turned to look at the man who rented him his place.

"On second thought, if she comes again, tell her to put everything back where she got them when she's done raiding my place…" he smirked, "if she comes with a key." With that, House turned and exited the building, hailing a cab to take him to the airport.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Virginia Hospital Center, Arlington<em>**

"Dr. House!" A tall blonde woman in a lab coat called out to House as he approached, meeting him halfway.

"Dr. Keller." House greeted the younger doctor.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Keller said with a warm smile. She turned on her heel so they could walk and talk, heading towards the elevators.

"How is she?" House asked as they got into the metal cart, waiting until they reached the fourth floor.

"Blythe is a lot better. She woke up an hour ago. I told her to get more rest, but I guess she got excited when I told her you were on your way," Keller smiled.

"She couldn't have been happier," she added.

House awkwardly nodded once, inwardly satisfied upon knowing that his decision to visit was the right thing to do.

Keller could only smile at him as she spared a glance his way. For some reason he didn't and probably would never understand how the woman had always been able to tolerate his ass-hood. At first he had been incredulous that he couldn't get to her, but he eventually gave up. Another thing he liked about her was that she was nice, but not one for sugar-coating—something he was relieved to have found out years ago. The woman was just a really good doctor and a genuinely nice person. He had trusted her with his mother's health ever since.

"How have you been?" he found himself asking, annoyed at the time it was taking them to get to his mother's floor.

"Been well," she replied, "Got married three years ago." She raised her left hand to show him the band and her engagement ring with a proud smile.

"I know…" he smirked, looking at her, "Got the invitation."

Keller let out a chuckle as they stepped out of the elevator upon reaching the fourth floor.

"You didn't go!" she argued, smirking back at him. "Blythe was there, though," she said, a smile painting her face. Her mom and Blythe were great friends even before Blythe became her patient.

"I hate weddings," he scoffed, before reminding her, "At least you got my gift."

House's words made her laugh out loud upon remembering his gifts.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "Three bottles of very expensive wine and Virginia's best divorce lawyer's calling card."

"I'm guessing you won't need it yet," he smirked.

She shook her head, chuckling, "No. The wine was divine, though, thank you."

They finally stopped in front of a private suite marked 413-A and he looked at her.

"Not every relationship has to end, Greg," she softly told him, surprising him by using his first name.

House sighed, ignoring her words.

"I'll drop by later, give you guys time to catch up," she smiled again, patting his arm. House awkwardly nodded, never one for physical contact. Her smile widened upon remembering.

"Sorry," she chuckled, "I forgot you're not human."

"Your mom's going to be alright," she assured him, "It's good seeing you again, House."

House nodded and thanked her.

"My pleasure," Keller replied before leaving him standing in front of his mother's hospital suite.

House took a deep breath, slid the door open and stepped inside.

"Hi, Mom…"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Wednesday, 2 PM<em>**

"Have you told House?" Wilson asked Cuddy as they stood a couple of feet away from the conference room where Arlene Cuddy was seated next to her lawyer.

Cuddy was frowning next to the oncologist, shaking her head.

"No," she answered with a sigh. "He has a lot on his plate right now."

"What are you talking about?" Wilson asked with a bushy eyebrow arched in question.

Cuddy tilted her head to the side to look at him, slightly puzzled.

"He didn't tell you?" she asked, her forehead creasing.

Wilson's frown deepened as he asked, "Tell me what?"

"His mother was admitted at a hospital in Virginia, last Monday. He asked me for a few more days off. I thought you already knew," Cuddy murmured, lips thinning.

Wilson sighed and shrugged. "Well, he doesn't really tell me much these days. He barely tells me anything," he informed her.

"We knew he'd close himself off," Cuddy regretfully mumbled, sadness enveloping her. She shuddered at the thought of him self-destructing again. No one knew what House was capable of when he was at his lowest. A dagger pierced her heart upon remembering his relapse and the reason—_reasons_, for it.

"I told him I forgive him," she suddenly revealed, glancing at him to see his reaction.

"You _told _him?" Wilson's eyes widened.

"I acknowledged that he may not have been there in the condition I wanted him to be, but at least he _was _there," Cuddy elaborated. "And I apologized, for not acknowledging it at all."

Wilson nodded. "That's good," he told her.

They remained silent for a while, thinking of multiple things, lost in their own thought processes.

"I'll talk to you later," she suddenly told Wilson, putting up her everyday façade of being strong and unconquerable. "I think I've made them wait long enough," she added with a smile as she stood straight, brushing her skirt just in case.

"Good luck," Wilson told her before walking towards the elevators.

"God, help me," Cuddy muttered unsteadily under her breath as she squared her shoulders and made her way to the conference room.

* * *

><p>"Hi, Mom," House greeted his mother whose brown eyes met his the moment he stepped into the room. Her face brightened instantaneously and House was glad that his presence was more than welcomed.<p>

"Greg!" Blythe House greeted her son with a longing, radiant smile. "I'm so glad to see you," she murmured as House leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"How are you?" he asked as he sat on the lounge chair next to her bed.

Blythe took hold of her son's hand and her smile turned into a serene look. It had been months since she last saw him.

"I'm much better," she sincerely answered, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

"Mom, you had a heart attack, you can't—"

"I'll be more careful, don't worry yourself. I'll be fine," Blythe cut him off tenderly.

"At least let me hire someone to help you around the house," House insisted, his voice lowering in concern.

Their eyes met and House continued, "I won't worry knowing you have someone with you at home."

"Please," he added softly.

Blythe sighed, but nodded in agreement.

"Okay."

House gave a curt nod, sealing the agreement.

"Thank you," he added.

They were silent for a while until Blythe asked the inevitable question he had been dreading.

"How about you, Greg, how have you been? How are Lisa and Rachel doing?" Blythe inquired, smiling at the thought of the sweet little girl she had met when she visited Greg about eight months ago. How she must have grown, she thought fondly.

House couldn't answer. His emotions were clogging his throat and stinging his eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly, immediately recognizing her son's broken silence. She could also see what was wrong, looking into those hurt cerulean eyes.

She tugged at her son's hand, making him stand so he could sit on the bed, facing her. She knew it wouldn't do any good to his bad leg, but she knew her son needed her comfort more. She was thankful that the bed was already inclined. She pulled her son into her arms, wrapping them around him.

"What happened?" she whispered her question softly whilst stroking his back with one hand.

House could only wrap his arms around his mother, too, smothered with every pent-up emotion rising up and onto the surface, threatening to engulf him. He knew he had to let these emotions go, but he was beyond terrified to feel the pain come after him wave after wave. He feared the searing pain the bubbling emotions inside him would undoubtedly bring.

He _was _a coward, he thought grimly, angry with himself.

Blythe could do nothing more than be her son's pillar as she held his trembling form in her arms, feeling his emotions slowly getting the better of him.

House's mother was unmindful, though, of the effect her comforting embrace and soothing voice had on her son. She wasn't aware that that night would be the first night he would lay himself bare to feel everything, face everything that has happened the past few months. Only she had the power to pull him from his shell and offer him solace at the same time.

The thought only served to remind him how alone and miserable he was.

Something resembling a sob filled the room and both occupants were surprised that it had come from the large, heartbroken man ensconced in his mother's loving arms.

"Oh, Darling," Blythe crooned soothingly as she felt his trembling worsen as he finally allowed his dam to break, letting his emotions go and unfurl. She tightened her arms around him and continuously rubbed his back, trying to soothe him with soft words that it was okay to cry, that it was alright to hurt and feel, that he was only human, too.

Her heart ached for him, but she was also thankful that he was able to release his anguish once and for all. Finally allowing himself to let go of years of pent-up emotions and _feel _the inescapable pain would, unbeknownst to him, free him somehow.

The last time Blythe held him crying had been years ago, before he closed up like a shell and locked everyone out. After his infarction, when he felt that he'd lost everything.

"I'm here," she whispered, kissing her son's warm, scruffy cheek. "I'm here," she reassured him, closing her eyes as she did her best to help him; even if she couldn't carry his pain for him. She was there and he wasn't alone. That was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

* * *

><p>Cuddy pushed the door to the conference room open, walking in and sitting on one of the ergonomic chairs.<p>

"Where is Dr. House?" Arlene's lawyer was quick to ask.

"I didn't want him here. This isn't about her treatment at Princeton-Plainsboro. It's about the fight we had last week. I'd like a moment with my mother to try and work this out on our own," Cuddy requested, looking her mother in the eye before turning to meet her lawyer's gaze.

"I'm afraid my client doesn't want to—"

Cuddy cut him off before he could finish his statement, saying, "It's mother's day Sunday. We can't have five minutes alone to fix this?"

"Relax," Arlene told her lawyer, "You can still bill me for the time standing in the hallway."

Arlene's lawyer's brows furrowed before he stood up and exited the room, giving the ladies the privacy they needed.

Cuddy sighed, looking at her mother. "I know you're mad at me, but you can barely make it up those stairs. How many nights have you spent on your couch?" she asked her, chewing on her bottom lip.

Arlene shook her head before saying, "This has nothing to do with our fight."

"We're talking about my home, not a prison camp." Cuddy was having none of it, believing it had _everything_ to do with their fight.

Arlene scoffed derisively as she asked, "What did I just say? I think it was something about this not being personal."

"You can spend time with Rachel. I can watch over you. Win, win," Cuddy tried to reason with her stubborn mother.

Arlene wasn't biting as she sarcastically said, "Maybe I've got a medical thing. Maybe I just think I'm talking, but no one can hear me, not just my uncaring daughter."

Cuddy sighed. "What do you want?"

"20 grand— I'll hire help and forget this nightmare you put me thr — make it 30. I'll put in a stair lift."

"If my board even hears about these threats, let alone a settlement, they'll investigate what happened while you were here as a patient. House and I could both lose our licenses. I've been assuming this is personal because I don't want to assume that was what my mother wants."

"Speaking of House, where is he, really?" Arlene asked, ignoring Cuddy's reasoning.

"He's with his mother," Cuddy answered, acquiescing, "She was hospitalized last Monday." She knew she'd never be able to get through to her mother. They were, equally, impenetrable objects. Nothing would get through both of them, it seemed. And Cuddy just had to give in.

Arlene's brows drew together as she sighed. "That explains it," she mumbled.

Cuddy's brows drew together as well.

"Explains what?" she inquired curiously and suspiciously.

"Why he wasn't at his apartment," Arlene said as she stood up.

"You _went _to his apartment?" Cuddy asked in disbelief, scoffing. "What could you have possibly gained by doing that?" she asked, not able to comprehend her mother's reasons.

"Well," she started, ignoring her daughter's disbelief, carefully testing her crutch before making her way towards the doors. "Let me know when he's back. _Then _the three of us could talk."

"Wait—"Cuddy sighed, hating herself for what she was about to suggest. She wanted the issue dealt with immediately.

Arlene stopped trying to push the door open and looked at her daughter.

"What if I get him on voice conference?" she suggested.

"I just want to get this over and done with, Mom. I don't want to fight you," Cuddy sighed, looking at her mother in defeat.

Arlene deliberated the suggestion for a while. She really did want those two idiots to talk. She sighed, deciding she could get them to talk and try conspiring against her only to have her shoot them down so they could team up against her again.

She sighed again, loudly, before making her way to a chair, sitting back down.

"If you don't get him soon, I'm walking out," she warned her daughter who could only nod in reply.

A good fifteen minutes later they were set up and Cuddy dialed House's cell phone number, waiting for him to answer. Her eyes met her mother's as they waited.

"I'm not taking any cases," a gruff voice answered seconds later.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, making her mother smirk.

"You're on speaker phone," she informed him, looking at her mother.

"My mother's threatening to sue the hospital over our mistreatment of her. Says it slowed her recovery," Cuddy told him.

"You know, I was just thinking how much I want a relationship with no sex, but where I still have to deal with your mother," House replied, his smirk a given to those who knew him.

"Hello, Greg," Arlene greeted him, a smirk on her face.

"Ex-not-mom-in-law," House greeted in return.

Cuddy pressed her thumb and index finger on the growing throb in the middle of her forehead and sighed.

"House, my mom and I got into a fight. Because of our replacement hip replacement, she can barely get around her own house. I told her she has to live with me while she recovers," she stated, hoping as hell House would at least try and be civil.

"Oh, I'm starting to get the connection. Yeah, she has a house, my name is House!" Cuddy shouldn't have been surprised by that reply.

Cuddy would have glared at him if he was in the room. "You're the doctor that treated her, that illegally switched her meds after she fired you, that went behind the back of her actual doctor," she reminded him, trying to keep her composure in check.

"Those beads from Thailand," Cuddy's face turns confused, "If we're listing all the things that you pressured me into."

Cuddy sighed, almost to the point of irritation. "The point is you're the one who's on the line here, whose name is on her hospital records."

House's lips pursed on the other end of the line before asking, "Whose name is on her name?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "Fine. We're both on the line, but she won't discuss this with me alone, that's why you're here on speaker phone. She and her lawyer want to meet with both of us for settlement talks."

"Why don't we settle this now?" House suggested.

"That's actually a great idea, Greg!" Arlene chimed in, rolling her eyes before staring at her daughter.

"What do you want, ex-not-mom-in-law?"

"Thirty grand," Arlene flatly told him her ask.

"Cuddy, you're rich, aren't you?" House inquired slyly.

"Give your mother the money and suck it up," he told Cuddy, "Besides, the stuff at my place are worth a lot more than thirty grand."

"Which reminds me," House's voice suddenly drew out.

"Please do not give your mother my keys," House told Cuddy in mock worry.

Cuddy sighed.

"House…"

"Call Foreman or Chase," House seriously ordered Cuddy. Both Cuddys were confused.

"Why—"

"Tell them to bring down a hip prosthesis," House added.

"Arlene, I saved your life. I'd be happy to un-save it," he told the older woman. "Sadly, I'm here, so Cuddy will do the un-saving."

Cuddy glared at the machine in the center of the table and looked at her mother. "He is being an ass. If I could join you in suing him—"

"She's like this in bed too. Always scheming to get the lawyers out of the room," House cut Cuddy off.

Arlene who had had enough, stood up, glaring at her daughter.

"If House isn't going to take this seriously, I know a few judges who will," she stated, her tone and voice in no mood for games.

"Was I supposed to be the good cop?" House asked with a wide smirk.

Arlene exited the conference room with a conspiratorial smile on her face, unseen by her daughter.

"You are such an ass!" Cuddy instantly berated him once her mother had exited the room.

"Cuddy," the seriousness in his voice made her listen just at the mention of her name.

"What?" she couldn't help but snap.

"Give her what she wants," he seriously told her.

"Why would I—"

"She won't get what she ultimately wants anyway," he told her.

"I'll be back on Monday." He hung up, leaving Cuddy a little annoyed that he had taken even more time off _and _made her confused as to what he'd meant.

What more could her mother possibly want anyway?

* * *

><p><strong><em>Tuesday, 7 PM<em>**

House opened the door for his mother, waiting for her to get inside before stepping into their home.

"What do you want for dinner, dear?" Blythe asked as she made her way to the kitchen, checking what she could work with.

House followed his mother, leaning against the wall.

"Mom, you don't have to make anything for me," he said before making his way towards her. He held onto her shoulders and steered her towards the living room.

"You just got out of the hospital. You need to rest," he quietly scolded.

"Let me make dinner," he smiled, almost shyly, making his mother smile back.

"You learned?" she asked with pride and awe. House could only nod.

"That's great, then," she smiled.

"Yeah," House answered, looking back at the reason why he chose to take up a cooking course with Wilson after getting discharged from Mayfield.

BIythe watched as her son walked back to the kitchen. She smiled, glad that he took time off to be with her. A frown took over her smile upon remembering his breakdown earlier that morning, wishing she could do something for him. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do. He had told her that Lisa broke up with him, and he had the decency to tell her everything that happened.

There was no excuse for her son's behavior, but she couldn't blame him for being frightened of the prospect that Lisa could die. She had no right to meddle in their affairs and she could only hope that Lisa would find it in her heart to give him another chance, someday. She knew Greg could be a little too much, but that was just how he was.

Thirty minutes later, Greg called her to dinner, making her mouth water at the delicious aroma of his cooking. They ate dinner and retreated to the living room for tea and coffee for Greg.

"How is Rachel?" she asked softly, wanting to know how the closest thing she had to a granddaughter from him was doing.

"She's been great," House allowed a small smile to grace his lips, remembering the little Cuddy.

House watched as his mother's eyes lit up at remembering Rachel. At that moment it hit him how much he actually missed the little monkey. His smile widened.

"They've changed you, Greg," Blythe fondly regarded. "In a good way. I've never seen you smile like that."

House's smile fell and he hung his head.

"I screwed it up," he murmured. He felt his mother's hand clasp his.

"You _can _still try winning Lisa back," Blythe encouraged him, "She _loves _you."

"She's better off without me, Mom. Rachel's better off without me."

"You don't know that."

House chuckled bitterly. "No one knows it more than I do," he said, his eyes boring into his mother's.

"You were afraid," Blythe excused, "but you were there. It might not have been the way either of you wanted, but you were there."

"I tried to ask her not to break things off, but she did… She had every right and reason to end things."

"Greg, us women don't really know what we want," Blythe remarked, chuckling as she sighed and leaned back on the couch.

House looked at his mother with a smirk. "Cuddy does," House negated.

"She's still a woman, Greg," Blythe said.

House sighed.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted. He was the last person who'd know how to try winning back the woman he loved. After everything, he didn't love her any less. He could never blame her for anything that had happened after they broke up. Nothing was her fault.

"Make yourself better," Blythe said. She loved her son for who he is, but she knew he had his own problems that he needed to deal with.

"I can't do any better," House mimicked Cuddy's words the night the world came crumbling down on him.

"You _can_," Blythe assured him, squeezing his hand.

"You can be a better man for her if you want to be better for her," Blythe insisted, her brown eyes trying to reach his soul.

"If she doesn't accept you, then… maybe, you weren't meant for her. If she doesn't accept you entirely for who you are, changed or not, then… she doesn't deserve you," Blythe slowly reasoned, choosing her words carefully.

House's head lowered.

"I love her, Mom," he whispered. "I don't know how to make things right," he looked up and his eyes desperately sought her comfort and guidance.

"I know," Blythe smiled sadly. "Remember what you always say? I believe you owe Jagger some credit for using his song. You can't always get what you want," she reminded him tenderly.

House chuckled gutturally, shaking his head.

"I'm sure you remember the 'but'," Blythe whispered, patting her son's hand before standing up and pressing a loving kiss to the crown of her son's head.

"Goodnight, Greg, I love you," she murmured softly as she walked towards her bedroom.

"'Night, Mom, I love you, too," he replied, watching as his mother disappeared to the hallway.

He smiled softly.

If you try, sometimes, you get what you need.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _Liked, loved, need more hope? Please leave a review and lemme know what you think!_

**Thanks for reading and being patient! :D**  
><strong>And thanks to those who added me to various alerts! My heart's all aflutter.<strong>

*smoochies*


	8. VII

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Beta services provided by PSC Inc. ;D Lol. Thankies, Penny!**_

_If you guys haven't noticed, I've been sorta sticking to canon; changing and adding some stuff, though. ;) I'll be tackling stuff until 7x23, but will most definitely NOT include House ramming his car into Cuddy's dining room because that won't be needed in this fic. Oh, and I kinda toned down Arlene's bitchiness a bit... ;D_

**_Kill me for cutting things short. ;D *drum roll please!*_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>VII<em>**

.

**_Thursday, Arlene's house_**

Cuddy and Wilson waited for Arlene to open the door for them. They've decided to finish the issue once and for all and settle. Cuddy chose to follow House's words and give her mother what she wanted.

A few seconds later, the front door to Arlene's house finally opened and her mother stepped out with a smile on her face, waiting for either of the two doctors to start talking.

She wasn't too happy to see that House wasn't back yet, but she couldn't blame the man. His mother fell ill.

"Mom, here's a check. It's a settlement for all you've been through. Of course you can stay in your home. It was wrong of me to suggest otherwise," Cuddy started, handing her mom the check and adding, "And House says he's sorry for treating you the way he did."

Arlene smiled, looking at Cuddy and Wilson.

"Did he, really? That doesn't sound like him," she teased before pursing her lips again.

Wilson cut off whatever retort Cuddy was about to dish, looking at Arlene, "I hope this resolves everything. I can tell you that both your daughter and Dr. House—"

Arlene looked down at the check in her hands and frowned.

"This is 30 grand."

Wilson nodded, "Which is what you asked for."

Arlene's frown deepened, "This covers pain and suffering. What about the probate lawyer?"

Wilson's brows furrowed.

"Do you two…"

"I have to change my will, leave everything to Julia so this one doesn't try more funny business to get control of my home."

"I'm sure we can toss in another 2,500."

Cuddy smirked at her mother, trying hard to not roll her eyes.

"Well, I guess I'll have to kill you tonight then. Mom, I'm not interested in—"

"You already think you own my body, why not my home too?" Arlene taunted.

"Everybody stay calm, and—"Wilson was about to intermediate between mother and daughter when Cuddy cut him off, talking to Arlene.

"You have to lash out at everyone who tries to help you? Live in your own kitchen sink for all I care!" Cuddy snapped, irritated

Wilson pursed his lips, knowing it'd be best not to try and interfere with their problems at that moment. He stood next to Cuddy, doing his best not to shift too nervously.

Arlene snorted, condescendingly smiling up at her daughter.

"You are right," she said as she ripped the check and reentered her home, closing the door in the two doctor's faces.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Friday, Wilson's office, 2 PM<em>**

"Mrs. Cuddy," Wilson greeted as the woman entered his room after knocking on his door.

"Hello, James," she smiled. "You never call me Mrs. Cuddy," she commented, "why the sudden change?"

Wilson let out a low chuckle.

"Given the current circumstances, I think it'd be best," he shrugged.

"Oh pshaw, call me Arlene," she told him.

Wilson gestured to his chair, wordlessly inviting her to sit.

"Anything I could do for you?" he inquired, setting aside the file he just signed.

"I know you want them back together as much as I do."

Wilson's head shot to her, bushy eyebrows pinched together in thought.

"That doesn't mean I can get them back together," he answered.

"Well, that's why you could help me," Arlene smiled. "Two brains are better than one."

Wilson thought about it, leaning back against his chair.

"You could make it your… tsvek, in life," she told him, her hands settling on the edge of his desk, "Your purpose."

She smirked.

"Well… other than healing, or at least trying to heal people of cancer."

Wilson would have given his life to be able to roll his eyes in front of Cuddy's mother. Too bad, he was afraid of the woman's guts.

Wilson would have told her, "Please stop insulting my profession and tell me the plan," instead he asked her, "And your plan is…?" A wise decision, really.

Arlene looked from side to side before looking back at him.

"To get them back together…?" she stated, as if reminding him. "The problem is how."

Wilson wanted to sigh really, really loudly. But he couldn't.

"I really want to help, Arlene," Wilson started quietly. "But if we're forcing them together, it isn't going to work."

"Then we won't force them," she exclaimed with an almost sly smile.

"Then—"

"We lay out the pros and cons," she told him, her hands moving alongside her words.

"We remind those two idiots why a relationship between the two of them _actually _works."

Wilson nodded, eyebrows still drawn together.

"Okay," he agreed, liking the plan.

"You do that," he suddenly said, causing the older woman to look at him in confusion.

"I already tried that to no avail."

"How do propose to help me in my plight, then?"

Wilson squinted for a while, wishing it hadn't come down to them conspiring against his two best friends, but he really believed it'd be best if they did. House and Cuddy were as stubborn as mules.

"House asked me to give Cuddy an extra set of keys to his apartment. Just in case Rachel throws an unappeasable tantrum over not being able to see him, again," Wilson filled her in.

"And House won't be back until Monday morning."

"You're suggesting…"

"Breaking into his apartment and looking for anything significant that you can use to convince Cuddy that House really does love her and would have done practically anything for her. Including having to change himself when he didn't have to. When she herself admittedly made the mistake of telling him she didn't want him to."

Arlene smiled softly.

"You're a great friend, James. Thank you," she commended him, standing up and walking to the door.

"Good luck," Wilson bid her goodbye.

When the older woman exited, the only thing he could do was let out a low chuckle. He never thought Arlene would ever do what she was doing now. House really was something. The man was an ass, but he could really be a great guy.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Friday, 11 PM <em>**

Spending a few days off of work had been a blessing in disguise. Visiting his mother had been one too. They had talked and caught up. He hadn't wanted to come with her to lunch with some friends, but he indulged his mother's wishes at least this once and kept his mouth shut from saying sarcastic and witty retorts.

Probably the only time he'd been actually fine with was dinner last night with Keller's parents and husband. That had actually been fun for him. He let out a small smile upon remembering the intelligent and humorous conversations.

The new scenery let him have a breath of fresh air, a Time Out. He was able to have time to himself, away from everything and everyone that plagued his thoughts.

Everything and everyone but one Lisa Cuddy and her little protégé of a daughter…

Even in his dreams she wouldn't leave him alone. She was now nothing more than a hopeless dream.

What had happened to him?

He thought he'd changed—he _knew _he had changed, but one eye-opening moment, one terrifying event, made him succumb to his greatest downfall's clutches once again.

He regretted ever taking that pill that fateful night. He regretted having resorted to one pill to avoid pain and assuage his fear.

Given a chance, he would have fought himself harder to be with her on his own volition, unaided by opiates.

But neither he nor that God people clung to could undo what he'd already done.

Regrets do come at the end.

He ached at the thought that, in the end, _she _was the price he had to pay in taking that cursed pill to be by her side. She herself was the cost he had to bear.

He regretted his stupidity, was ashamed at his cowardice.

House turned in his old bed and hugged a pillow close to his chest. He couldn't help but miss her silky-smooth skin and her warmth. Her presence.

God, he missed her.

An empty space in his heart longed for her still. He felt like that empty space always will. No one could fill that space but her.

He wanted another shot at a relationship with her, but he loved her enough to give her the air and space she needed and wanted.

He had hurt her terribly, and he had no right to force her to give him another chance.

He could only hope that, in time, she'd find it in her heart to open her heart and home to him again.

He would never commit the same mistakes again. Come hell or high water, he vowed, whether they were friends or lovers, he'd be there for her if she needed him.

Of course, that didn't mean everything would turn out okay or be perfect. He was and would always be screwed up. She knew that. They both knew that.

But he'd do better.

Only she had the power to make him a better person, a better man.

And honestly, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

In time, he hoped as hard as he could allow himself to do so.

In time.

For now, space was the only thing he could give her to make her feel his love and respect.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Saturday, 11:30 AM<em>**

"Whoozzit?" Rachel sang as she scampered towards the front door, looking up at Marina.

The nanny looked down at the little girl and smiled, unlatching the bolt and unlocking the door before pulling it open.

"Gramma!" Rachel greeted her grandmother the moment she saw her as the door opened to reveal the woman.

"Hello, Sweetie," Arlene greeted as she gave her youngest granddaughter a hug.

"It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cuddy," Marina greeted the woman with a warm smile.

"Hello, Marina," Arlene greeted the nanny before following her granddaughter who had started dragging her to the living room by the hand.

When they reached the living room, Rachel turned and looked at Gramma again. She gasped and her eyes widened as she saw what was now slung on her arm.

"You got a cane!" she suddenly squealed, looking up at her. "Like Hows!" she told her grandmother, utterly fascinated by the coincidence, or likelihood of knowing someone else with a cane.

If Arlene hadn't smirked, she would have laughed out loud. And if it hadn't been her granddaughter speaking, she would have already thrown back something witty or even a scathing remark.

Arlene bent down and ran her fingers through Rachel's hair, playfully ruffling it afterwards, smiling.

"Yes, just like House," Arlene confirmed.

Rachel's face fell a few seconds after Arlene sat on the couch.

"What's wrong, Rachel?" Arlene asked, pulling her granddaughter close to her.

Rachel pouted as she asked her Grandma, "Gramma's leg hurt like Hows, too?"

"No," Arlene shook her head, gazing fondly at the sweet and thoughtful child, tenderly pinching her cheek with a soft smile. "Gramma just has to rest so her hip," she gestured to the mentioned body part, "would stop hurting."

"Okay," Rachel said, reassured by her grandmother's words. She crawled next to her on the couch and leaned back as they watched the cartoon on the plasma TV.

"I miss Hows," Rachel suddenly sighed, eyes still glued to the TV.

Arlene looked at her daughter's daughter, gazing at the TV with a sadness she'd never seen before. The fact that Rachel was in love with House, made her smile. One wouldn't think House was capable of being nice to a child from one look, but he really was. He was great with Rachel.

"Hmm," Arlene started, making Rachel look up at her.

'Hmm' always meant something good was about to be offered, in Rachel's quickly expanding vocabulary.

"Wanna come with Gramma to Greg's house?" she suggested, making the toddler's face scrunch up in confusion.

"Who Greg?" she asked curiously, wondering why Gramma was asking her if she wanted to come to Greg's house.

Of course, like her mother, she was calling the guy who had practically lived with them by his last name.

Unbelievable!

"Honey, Greg is House. So… wanna come with Gramma to House's house?" she asked again, changing the name to not confuse her granddaughter any further.

"Hows hows," Rachel giggled before excitingly nodding.

"But House won't be there," Arlene told her, not wanting to lead her granddaughter in thinking she'd see the man there when they arrived.

Rachel's glee deflated exponentially. She slouched and pouted. What would they do at House's apartment if he wasn't there?

Sometime, Arlene wondered if the young girl wasn't really the product of Greg and Lisa procreating. She had spent so much time with the two that they'd rubbed off on her. In all the good and… well, slightly bad—for her anyway—ways.

"I'm sorry, darling," Arlene apologized, brushing a stray lock of hair from Rachel's face. "Do you still want to come with me?" Rachel nodded again, still wanting to come, but not as excited as she had initially been.

"Okay," Arlene smiled.

Now, to find the keys to House's apartment.

Arlene searched the apartment for House's keys, then remembering the key holder.

She went back to the hallway and found it, smiling as she fingered the keys.

"Mommy keep _all _keys there," Rachel pointed out, having followed her key quest.

"She does, doesn't she?" Arlene chuckled, Rachel nodded.

She moved to the coat rack and took Rachel's and helped her put it on as she called Marina.

"I'll be taking Rachel out for an hour or two. We'll be working on a little something for her mother. Please stay because I'll definitely be back and leave her with you to look after. Is that alright, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Cuddy. No problem at all!"

"Thank you," Arlene said.

"We'll be going now, then!"

* * *

><p>"Do you miss playing with House, Rachel?" Arlene inquired as the cab took them to House's apartment.<p>

"Yes," Rachel nodded, looking up at Grandma.

Arlene smiled as Rachel snuggled into her side, running her hand along the child's arm.

"What games did you used to play with him?" she curiously asked, not wanting the ride to be a quiet one, especially since she was with her talkative granddaughter.

It had been quite an earful back then when she was smaller because she literally babbled. Now, it was fun and not unbearable to hear her animated storytelling.

Rachel thought for a moment, a hand on her chin as she tried to remember the names of the different games they'd played together.

"Feed the Monkey!" was the first one she gleefully mentioned.

"How do you play 'Feed the Monkey'?"

"You feed the monkey a banana!" Rachel said with her pitch, high, as if telling her grandmother that it was common sense how to play the game.

Arlene chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"What else?" she asked.

"Uhm… Catch!" she said, giggling upon remembering how they played the game.

"Catch," Arlene smirked, "Isn't that a boy's game?" she teased, feigning incredulity.

Rachel looked up at her with eyes as wide as saucers before looking straight ahead as if nothing happened.

Arlene arched a perfectly plucked brow at her granddaughter's actions.

"No, silly!" she refuted, then was suddenly giggling as if Catch being only for boys was absurd.

Arlene could only laugh in amusement.

"Well aren't you a smart cookie?" she chuckled, pressing a kiss to her youngest granddaughter's head.

* * *

><p><strong><em>15 minutes later<em>**

"Well, hello there, Mrs. House!" the landlord greeted as he walked down the stairs. "And who might that cute little girl be?"

Rachel hid her face behind her Gramma, trying to escape the big man's gaze.

"Greg's daughter," Arlene smirked.

"Your son arrived the night you came," the landlord started.

"Apparently, his mother had been confined somewhere in Virginia."

Arlene rolled her eyes.

"How'd you get a key?" he curiously asked Arlene.

"My daughter," Arlene said as she slid the key into the keyhole. "House's girlfriend."

"_Ex-_girlfriend, right? Haven't they broken up? Why does she still have a key?"

"As far as I know, it isn't any of your business," Arlene answered before turning to look at the man with a patronizing smile. "Great chat," she sarcastically said before entering House's apartment with Rachel.

"All right, sweetheart, go play or watch. But stay here, in the living room, okay?"

Rachel nodded as her Gramma folded her coat and set it on the couch.

Rachel reached for the remote and turned on the TV. She pressed down on two numbers House always pressed and shouted in unabashed glee upon seeing monster trucks, letting her know that it was the right channel.

"Rachel, what in the world—"Arlene started as she walked back towards the living room.

"Ah, of course," she mumbled and smirked instantly upon seeing Rachel's face as she watched huge trucks colliding against one another.

Arlene shook her head before walking back towards Greg's bedroom, hoping she would indeed find something other than porn.

Arlene tried looking for anything that could back up her theory of Greg loving Lisa beyond words, but as she got closer and closer to the living room, the likeliness of her finding anything at all seemed close to nil.

"Traaaaaaash!" Rachel squealed as she joined the fans' ruckus.

Arlene would have thanked her if she hadn't been struck by the urgent need to search House's trash bins as well. She looked for a plastic bag or gloves she could use to start her trash inspection.

Truth be told, she herself couldn't remember the reason finding something was _so _important to her.

But as she heard her granddaughter's giggles and laughs coming from the living room, and thinking of her daughter's sorrow and misery as of late, the reason made itself known again.

Lisa and Rachel's long-term happiness.

Her daughter should have felt better, she should have felt free and happy by now, but clearly, she wasn't. At all.

She hadn't wanted to break things off with House, but she made herself realize and believe it was the best thing to do for her and her daughter.

House was the only person who has made Rachel and Lisa really happy.

Yes, he hurt Lisa. He had apologized and begged her not to leave him, but she still did.

He could have stopped interacting with Rachel, but he didn't. He could have stopped respecting her daughter and lashed out at her already, but he didn't.

House loved her daughter and Rachel, and that was it.

She honestly couldn't ask for more from her (she chuckled) not-son-in-law.

Two practically empty trash bins later, Arlene was on the verge of giving up on the third and half-full bin until she reached the bottom part and her hands encountered something solid.

A blue leather box.

She gasped in both shock and pleasure at finally having found something.

Arlene's eyes widened upon opening it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _WHAT? WWWWWHAT IS IN DA BOX? Any guesses? Leave a review to badger me into updating SOON! ;D Don't forget to add your two cents about the chapter! :)_

**IMPORTANT QUESTION: SMUT or NO SMUT? WHY YES/NO? Sound off on the revs! I'll prolly put up a poll, too! But decision will ultimately be mine; I just want to know your opinion(s). :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. VIII

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: As always, beta and whiteboard-ing services provided by PSC Inc. ;D Thankies, love!**_

_Thank you for all the reviews and alert subscriptions! 200+ reviews! WOW! Love you all! :D _

**_And inside the box is... *runs for the hills*_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>VIII<em>**

.

**_Monday, 3 PM_**

House was finally back, and Cuddy couldn't help but be thankful that he hadn't been around while her mother made her life a living hell by being as difficult as ever.

Later that afternoon, a fire alarm broke the silence echoing along the hallways of the hospital, causing everyone to do the drill and evacuate patients.

"Keep the clinic shut down. But wherever it is, it's isolated to the administrative floor. I'm not gonna evacuate the whole… "Cuddy was talking to her assistant when she trailed of as she saw her mother approaching her with a smile on her face. Disbelief enveloped her visage and she had to stop herself from exploding then and there. Her mother had stooped too low this time. It was one thing, messing with her alone, using the hospital and interrupting their services just to get to her was another. What her mother had just done was zero tolerance.

Arlene smiled wider as she stopped next to House and said, "Only way to finally get the two of you in the same place at the same time. Hello, Greg," she looked at House. House only gave her a nod to acknowledge her greeting. His eyes narrowed at her when he noticed the slight softening of her gaze on him before she turned her head to look at her daughter.

Cuddy turned to her assistant and ordered, "Reopen everything. Readmit everyone, now!"

Cuddy's assistant immediately did as she was told. She walked towards the person she had to talk to; to inform the person that it had been a false alarm.

Arlene looked from the floor and raised her head to look at her daughter with an apparent satisfied-slash-smug look. She breathed out before smiling again as she informed them, "I want you both to know I'm filing the suit today, delivering the paperwork to your counsel's office."

Cuddy's nostrils flared as she glared at her mother and incredulously spat, "You have to be destructive! You have to tear things apart! God forbid you should say what's really on that twisted mind of yours?"

Arlene snorted as she mocked her daughter, asking her, "And you're the great peacemaker? Single mom, can't keep a man long enough to cook a meal."

Cuddy was in no mood for her mother's lectures and mockery.

"You'd be dead if it weren't for our mistreatment. And somehow you'd still find something to whine about," she told her mother.

Arlene smiled a fake smile at her daughter, taunting her as she stated, "We'll let the court decide who's whining since you're so sure—"

Cuddy was silent for a while as something struck her like a bullet out of nowhere. Her mother looked at her for a while in slight concern before her face morphed into that of expectance again, knowing Lisa was alright.

Cuddy noticed that House had stood up and began walking away from them, probably knowing what was to come. She frowned before turning to her mother again.

"We're not getting back together," she told her mother, finally understanding what House had been implying that day they set up a conference call. Of course, he'd understand her mother's motives at once.

Only now did Cuddy understand what her mother had been trying to do all along. It also explained why she'd been adamant that House be present during the settlement. She wanted them to team up so that they could conspire against her, possibly getting closer again as they did.

Cuddy shook her head as she spoke again, "It's the only explanation. Why you keep making threats without ever filing your completely valid lawsuit. Why you ripped up your will, why you kicked half the hospital out on the street. You wanted us united against you."

"Why would you do that?" she asked rhetorically, "I just thought that this was you drawing blood over the latest of a long line of imaginary slights. You don't care if anyone else is happy for a single—"

Arlene shook her head at her daughter.

"Look at you idiots!" she said, about to repeat what she'd been saying for a while already. "Who else is gonna put up with either of you?"

Cuddy sighed heavily, reminding her, "I asked you to move in. That meant we weren't going to reconcile. I'm sorry, mom."

Cuddy's face softened at her mother's ulterior motive. She was just trying to make her realize her own mistake. She was trying to make her daughter happy. Yes, House hurt her. But House also made—_makes _her _and _Rachel happy.

"Some things take more than a common enemy," she whispered as she leaned forward to embrace her mother.

Arlene sighed as she pulled back and looked at her daughter sadly.

"Then you really are an idiot with impossible standards."

"I'm sorry your plan didn't work," Cuddy smiled fondly, still holding onto her mother's arms.

"It's going to take more than a common enemy or an apology for House and I to get back together," she whispered. "And I have," she said softly, "forgiven him."

"Lisa," her mother's eyes met her own, two oceans colliding. "Don't let go of him," she wisely advised her daughter like she never had done before.

"He is _the _one, Mom," Cuddy sincerely admitted, biting her lower lip. "But he's _not _the right choice," she heartbrokenly whispered.

"There is no 'right one', darling," Arlene cupped her daughter's cheek, "Not if you keep your eyes on someone's flaws alone. You love him, Rachel loves him, and he loves _both _of you. What else is not right?" she beseeched her daughter to reflect on her decisions and feelings.

Cuddy held her mother's hand and gently pulled it down, clasping it within her own. She looked her in the eyes and smiled sadly.

"He _can't _be present when I need him," she stated, her eyes reliving the pain and fear of having no one by her bedside. "He will _always _put himself and his fears first."

The memories won't stop flooding her mind. Alone and vulnerable, waiting until he finally appeared, standing by the door, apologetic. She had forgiven his earlier absence in a heartbeat, confident that, even if late, he'd come.

Cuddy bit her lip upon remembering that he probably wouldn't even have been there if he hadn't resorted to taking vicodin to calm the raging fear and pain consuming him upon thinking of the possibility that she could die.

He relapsed to be by her side.

He took the vicodin to be where they both desperately wanted and needed him to be.

He unconsciously, selflessly traded two years' worth of sobriety to dull the pain of having to feel her pain, and stand beside her bedside the way she needed him to.

She never wanted that!

She never asked him to do that!

She never wanted him to sacrifice his sobriety!

He didn't _need_ to sacrifice his sobriety!

But his fears, including that of pain, broke his resolve. He made himself believe that the vicodin would help him be present for her and numb the fear of losing her that had been crawling up every nerve ending he had.

So, yes, she had wanted him there, but she hadn't wanted to find out that he had to turn to his old addiction for solace to make him bear to be by her side. He made himself believe the vicodin was the only way he could have stood by her side.

She hadn't wanted to find out that he wouldn't even be by her side if he hadn't taken that goddamned pill. God, she remembered the night she realized that he'd used again. She could still feel the pain caused by the dagger that pierced her being when the realization dawned on her.

She couldn't go through that again… she just—

"Lisa…" Arlene shook her daughter from her own thoughts, brows drawing together once she saw her daughter's eyes starting to water.

Cuddy shook her head, not even daring to look at her mother in fear of bursting out in tears in front of her own employees. She hurried towards her office, maintaining her authoritative façade the entire journey.

Arlene watched as her daughter escaped to her private office. She sighed heavily, looking around before trekking the path towards her daughter's office, her gait exponentially better after being caught in the act.

"What else have you got to say?" Cuddy snapped at her mother with tears in her eyes as the elder woman entered the office, examining her tearstained face.

Arlene dramatically exhaled, rolling her eyes. She pulled a packet of tissues from her bag and handed it to her crying daughter. She occupied the empty space beside her. She took Cuddy's hands in hers, squeezing them to remind her that, as infuriating and frustrating as she was, she was ultimately there for her daughter.

"Look at me," Arlene sternly yet softly ordered, lowering her head to at least try and compel her daughter to do as she asked.

Cuddy exhaled through her nose and met her mother's tender and understanding gaze. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she waited for her mother's words, dreading them at the same time.

"Give Greg another chance," she felt her daughter starting to pull her hands away, but she held onto them firmly. "He may or may not deserve it after what happened, but remembering that you weren't the only one who hurt," Arlene advised, squeezing Lisa's hands, "and you're not the only one _still _hurting."

"I can't go through it again," Cuddy meekly refuted, chewing on her bottom lip as she shook her head from side to side.

"You make it sound like you experienced domestic violence," Arlene smirked. "House may be a bastard, but he'd fightfor you. Not fight you."

Cuddy let out a guttural chuckle, looking at her mother.

"Why are you so taken with him?" Cuddy inquired. She never thought that her mother would end up fighting for her and House's broken relationship. She had never done that.

"You could have cared less about my past relationships," Cuddy reminded her, a genuinely interested and curious expression on her face.

Arlene kissed her daughter's cheek before gingerly standing up. At first, Cuddy thought she wasn't going to answer her question.

"He not only loves you, he loves your daughter as well. I've seen him with that little girl, and I've never seen Rachel as happy. Just the way _you're _happy when you were with him," Arlene started. "He could have easily stopped all contact with your daughter the moment you broke up with him, but he didn't. I know you know him and that he wouldn't have done that if he wasn't really taken with Rachel and in love with you."

Arlene sat back down when Cuddy just stared at her, taking in her words.

"Greg may be the only one who would put up with your ridiculous standards," she smirked. "Besides, he's also the only man you ever dated who had the gall to sedate your mother yet keep _you _schtupping him anyway." Cuddy blushed, "I like him because he loves you enough to hold his tongue because I'm your mother, yet audacious enough to shut me up when I've delved way below the belt."

Arlene smiled as she took in the small, barely noticeable smile that her daughter let out as memories flooded her thoughts.

She stood up once again and bid her daughter goodbye before exiting Cuddy's office, leaving her to her thoughts.

Why hadn't she just talked to her daughter?

A smile formed in her face as she walked to the exit.

"Where's the fun in that?" she thought.

Cuddy sighed deeply, wiping at her face. She looked down and shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips as she tried to process everything that had happened. They had started out practically at each other's throats and they ended up making peace, with her mother giving her words of wisdom.

Her mother was really something, she thought fondly.

As she looked down again, a square blue box caught her attention and she frowned. It wasn't hers.

She didn't bother opening it as she took it in her hands, wiped her face again, and followed her mother, hoping she hadn't hailed a cab yet.

"Mom!" Arlene turned to see her daughter approaching her.

"You left this in my office," Cuddy said, holding out what she finally made out was a jewelry box.

"That's yours," Arlene simply stated, turning to leave. Cuddy's hand shot out to grasp her mom's arm, making her stop from leaving. Arlene looked at the hand gripping her arm before looking at her daughter.

"Mom, this is _not_ mine."

"It's from Greg—"Arlene started, cutting herself off and doing a double take. "Well, it would have been yours if you had stayed with him at least until your first year together," Arlene stated, a smirk on her face.

Of course she had to be back to her you'll-be-pulling-your-hair-out-when-I'm-through-with-you attitude.

"Mom…"

"I found it in his apartment… in the trash bin..."

"Unbelievable!" Cuddy thought. Why was she not surprised?

"You went to his apartment, again! How did—"

Arlene smiled mischievously as she stated, "Rachel already knows her Mommy is anal enough to keep _all _keys hanging in the key holder."

"I am not—"Cuddy stopped herself from denying and instead chose to berate her mother. "You had no right to go through his things! And you had no right to take home whatever it is you found there that you may or may not have found was significant!"

"It was in his trash. Finders keepers."

"Mom…"

"Too late for berating me now, don't you think? Besides, Rachel loved the visit even if House hadn't been there," Arlene smirked, earning a glare from her daughter.

Cuddy sighed in utter frustration.

"You have to return it!" she demanded, holding the box out to her mother.

Arlene didn't take it. "That'd be your problem now, dear," Arlene sang, irritating Cuddy even more.

"Jesus is expecting me back home tonight. And I don't have House's key anymore even if I wanted to return it."

Cuddy shuddered in disgust before turning around and hastily making her way to her office, knowing she wouldn't have won an argument with her mom anyway. Not when Arlene was as determined as she was.

Arlene took a deep breath and smiled in satisfaction as she walked towards the sidewalk and hailed a cab.

She wished those two idiots would stop being so stupid and stubborn.

She could only hope that she had done more good than bad with her flop of a visit.

* * *

><p>Lisa Cuddy dropped down heavily on the couch in her office.<p>

The door was locked, blinds were shut.

Her fingers trembled as they slid across the box's dimensions. She set the box down on her coffee table a second later, staring at it. Her face was void of emotion to people who didn't know her well, but to those who did, her face, as she eyed the box was filled with anxiety and a heavy heart, they'd have known in an instant that she was, without a doubt, at a loss.

Her heart felt like it was sinking lower and lower, moving its way to the pit of her stomach.

A part of her told her that by looking at what was undoubtedly inside that box, she'd only hurt herself more, kill herself more.

"It could be nothing but a watch... earrings… a bracelet. It couldn't possibly be _that."_ Her rational mind was already doing its job, keeping her thoughts logical, keeping her heart away from worming itself into her thoughts.

But her irrational heart blew off every single lie her mind had conjured for her; because it wasn't a watch, there were no earrings, no bracelet.

It could only be that which she would have never even imagined House buying for her.

She trembled, a shudder snaking down her spine, as she reached for the box again, staring at it in a mixture of bewilderment and heartbrokenness.

It wasn't the brand's renowned initials holding the lids of the box together at the topmost center. It wasn't even what she was certain was inside. It was the thought of House even considered buying and giving it to her on bended knee that was gathering the saline waters of emotions to her eyes.

She had also never asked for this.

But she would have loved him more back then for it. Probably even more than she still loved him now…

Her emotions were building up a storm inside of her, preparing to make landfall and ravage her heart, her soul, her being.

Nothing could have stopped her heart from splitting in two when her fingers parted the box's lid and its content sparkled from the inside, mocking her and repeatedly stabbing her already battered heart.

A stunning round brilliant-cut diamond mounted on the Harry Winston engagement ring stared back at her…

And the date of what would have been their first year together engraved on the inner shank.

He had planned on proposing to her... on their anniversary.

A sob resonated inside the room, bouncing off the four corners of her office as she almost immediately shut the box closed and laid it on the table.

The first sob was followed by another…

And another…

Her heart couldn't handle the gut-wrenching thought of having shattered everything they could have had over one moment and one mistake. One vicodin. One slip.

The memory of him asking her what dress she would wear; she had told him she was a sucker for the white one… The memory of the look on his face as he watched her watch the bride…

The thought of having obliviously traded her and her daughter's long-term happiness to be away from his arms and his ability to hurt her cut her to the bone, tilting her world off its axis.

Her tears caressed her face—the only warmth she could feel, having no one, no shoulder to cry on. She could taste her tears; they gave off the bitter taste of losing the man she loved and a future they could have had together.

_"No… no, no, no. Don't. Don't… Don't… Please don't… "_

She could remember that night. The pain, the dejectedness, the loss reflected in his eyes; she would never forget them. She had barely gotten over her own.

She had taken away his hope, the one thing he had strived to let grow in him after Mayfield… she couldn't even have given him that.

Her heart bled as she opened her eyes to everything she had cost him… including herself. She had wanted to be with him, but she couldn't let him hurt her again. She didn't want him to have the chance to hurt her again.

He had told her before that he'd do horrible things to her again… and he had.

He had warned her… she had brushed it off, telling him that she didn't want him to change.

_"I know you're screwed up. I know you are always going to be screwed up. But you're the most incredible man I know. You are always going to be the most incredible man I have ever known…_"

She had negated everything she had confidently told him herself. She had stubbornly refused him to give up on them (two times!) but she ultimately was the one who called things off by choosing to give up on him.

She had refuted everything but two things…

Loving him…

And telling him that he was the most incredible man she has ever known. He was and always would be that man. He had proved it himself; loving Rachel, and loving her still, after what she'd done to him.

She didn't know for how long she sat in solitude, giving in to her boisterous emotions. The storm won't abate, the clouds wouldn't clear.

She had never felt so lost.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _Gasp! NOW WHAT? Liked, Loved, Hate Me For Being So Evil...?  
><strong>Sound off on the revs, if you please!<strong>_

_** Smut poll now up on my page! ;D**_

**Thank you for reading!**


	10. IX

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I put last-minute add-ons and did a little more whiteboard-ing with my lovely beta, Penelope S Cartwright ;D Seriously, Penny, I wouldn't have been able to do better without you. ;D **Read her stories, people! SO worth the read and the time! :D_

_**Thank you so much to everyone reading and leaving reviews for this story!**_

_I AM STILL FLOATING ON CLOUD NINE AFTER HAVING READ YOUR REVIEWS FOR VIII! KEEP DOING THAT PLEASE! You've no idea just how much it fuels my brain! I didn't reply anymore because I've updated SO soon! Will reply for this chap's revs tho as I'll be working diligently on what's going to happen next! _

_TRUST ME, I love happy endings! ;D_

**_P.S.: If you wanna see the ring, link is up on my profile page. ;D Special thanks to Sophie, aka Oc7ober, for helping me look for a ring. ;D :* _**

**_OMG... what have I done? _**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>IX<em>**

.

"Hi, baby," Cuddy softly greeted Rachel who had run to her arms the moment she saw her. Cuddy picked her daughter up off the floor and propped her onto her hip. She pressed a loving kiss to the little girl's forehead, embracing her.

"Hi, Mommy," Rachel said, hugging her mother back. The little girl yawned, burying her face in the crook of her mother's neck. Cuddy smiled, running her hand up and down Rachel's back.

Cuddy turned to Marina, paid her for her services for the day and thanked her, wishing her a safe trip home. When the nanny exited the house, Cuddy locked her front door and bolted it.

"Me an' Gramma went to How's hows today," Rachel shared, rubbing at her eyes with her balled fist.

Of course, Cuddy already knew that. She simply let out a soft yet sad smile as she ran her fingers through Rachel's soft hair.

"Really?" Cuddy asked her, indulging her daughter's story of the day.

Rachel nodded against her neck before letting out another tired yawn. Cuddy wanted to just retire to her own bed as well.

"Did you have fun with Grandma?"

"Uh-huh," Rachel nodded, "I watch Monster Trucks," she divulged.

Cuddy couldn't have helped the smirk that came to her face upon learning another Houseian hobby that had been passed onto her daughter.

Who knew what else House had gotten Rachel hooked on?

"Alright, time for bed," Cuddy announced quietly when Rachel yawned yet again, rubbing at her sleepy eyes.

"But Moooooom!" Rachel whined in protest, pulling away from her mother's chest to look at her with an adorable pout.

Cuddy smiled and took in how her daughter looked, her sweet puckered lips and eyebrows drawn together tugged at her heartstrings. Although a slight sting struck her heart upon remembering from whom Rachel learned to whine like that. Rachel had seen House whine at her many times before and eventually caught on to how effective (or not) it was.

Cuddy deposited her Little Cuddy to her crib, tucking her in for the night.

Cuddy bent down and pressed a kiss to Rachel's head, wishing her a goodnight and sweet dreams, telling her how much she loved her. Rachel bid her goodnight as well, telling Mom she loved her too.

Cuddy exited the room, leaving Rachel with her night light.

She was glad that there had been no questions about House's whereabouts that night. She didn't think she would have been able to answer her daughter without breaking down in tears.

She got ready for bed, thankful that she had survived another day without him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>The next day, Wilson's office<em>**

Cuddy had been able to stay inside her office for more than half of the day, focusing on work to make herself forget of her real life, at least for a while. She did her best not to feel anything the night before, willing herself to sleep the moment her head hit the bed.

Earlier today, she'd been able to avoid having to think about House and the ring. An hour or two after lunch, however, having finished a lot of the paperwork she had to review and sign, her thoughts had slowly floated back to the man she still loved and the ring he had planned on giving her.

Her thoughts had led her to her ex-lover's best friend. She made her way to Wilson's office, intent on knowing whether the oncologist had known about House's plans or was just as oblivious as she was.

"Hey, you busy?" Cuddy asked Wilson as she poked her head into his office.

Wilson looked up and immediately noted the tired look on her face. Her makeup was almost unsuccessful in hiding the dark circles under her eyes. But still, to one who didn't know her well, she looked as immaculate and untouchable as the hospital's dean and chief administrator.

"No. What's wrong?" the oncologist asked, setting aside the medical tome he'd been browsing through. He motioned to her with a hand to sit and she did, hands folded on top of her lap.

Cuddy held their gaze or a while, studying his face before looking away.

Her actions slightly worried Wilson.

"Cuddy…"

Her blue eyes met his warm brown ones, and she took a deep breath, trying her best to calm herself.

"Were you aware of House's plans on asking me to marry him?" she asked, focused solely on him so she could tell whether he'd been only hiding the information from her.

Unadulterated shock overcame Wilson's face, giving Cuddy the answer she needed.

Wilson felt as if he'd been punched by the revelation enclosed in Cuddy's question.

House had never… he… The man never approached him about anything related to marrying Cuddy. He had never talked about it at all. The last time he'd heard of marriage and House in the same sentence had been during Cuddy's birthday dinner. Arlene had been very outspoken that night.

He was planning to propose?

He wasn't aware that the question had left his mouth until he saw Cuddy nod before looking down, staring at the floor.

"No…" Wilson breathed, answering her verbally. "I had no idea."

This was… big, to say the least.

He could finally understand House's pain. He finally realized just how deep Cuddy had wounded him by leaving him that night.

If he'd been in House's place, he didn't even want to think about how he'd feel. He'd probably have broken down.

He could only imagine how House had been hurting.

Silence.

"How did you—"

"Mom found the ring at his apartment." Cuddy's voice broke. She looked up at Wilson before exhaling, her breath quickly morphing into a deep, shuddering sigh.

"He was going to ask me on our anniversary." The words left her in a breathless whisper.

It had been less than a day since she found out, but the shock wouldn't abate. She was certain that she wouldn't get over the painful revelation any time soon.

Wilson frowned as he slowly let the news sink in.

Obviously, it had mattered so much to House that even he, the man's best friend, didn't know about his intention to propose to her. Well, given his track record in squealing certain things to Cuddy, Wilson couldn't really blame the man for keeping it to himself.

"The ring had our—what would have been… our anniversary engraved on it."

Before Wilson could say anything, he saw Cuddy's lower lip tremble until a heart-wrenching sob tore past her lips.

Without anything else to say that he deemed would help, Wilson pushed his chair back and rounded his desk to reach for her.

He took the crying woman into his arms, remembering the last time she had done the same thing for him. He knew the circumstances were different, but he really couldn't have cared less. She needed a friend, a shoulder; he was there for her.

Wilson would have mentioned how this could be an opportunity for the two, but he refrained from doing it. He had done enough by allowing Arlene to find out about the key, leading to the discovery of the ring.

Only House and Cuddy could fix this… or make it worse. He only wished that the discovery of the ring didn't make things worse. He knew it made things more difficult to fix, but he knew things weren't necessarily beyond repair in House and Cuddy's screwed up relationship.

"He was going to propose…" Cuddy choked out in a sob, crying against Wilson's chest, clinging onto his suit. She wanted to be in somebody else's arms, but she figured she was the last thing House would want to have anything to do with.

She had destroyed everything between them.

She lost him.

Once her tears had stopped, Wilson slowly let go of her, holding her by the shoulders.

"Will you be okay?" he concernedly asked her.

Cuddy looked up at him and wiped at her face.

She smiled sadly. "I have to be," she told him.

"Cuddy… you two could still mend things," Wilson told her softly.

Cuddy shook her head.

"It's too late, Wilson," she whispered, biting her lower lip as her eyes bore into his.

Was it, really?

"We can't go back," she whispered the same words she'd told him the night he had come to her, almost crying as he begged her to run back into House's arms and rescue him from the rapid downward spiral she had caused.

"I've hurt him so much," she admitted in a whisper, her eyes telling Wilson just how much.

"He _loves _you," Wilson reminded her. "He'll forgive you."

Cuddy just shook her head.

"Why not?" Wilson pressed, brows drawing together, trying to understand her.

Cuddy shook her head. She herself didn't know.

Cuddy wiped at her face again before straightening her skirt and blouse.

She took a deep breath and looked Wilson in the eye.

"Please… don't tell him I know," Cuddy begged him.

"I won't say anything," Wilson promised, still harboring a spark of hope that Cuddy would at least talk to his best friend.

He didn't know how long they'd continue avoiding each other. He just hoped that what was to come wouldn't end with either of them leaving the hospital.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Cuddy's office<em>**

Later that night, Cuddy was fighting the urge to march up to House's office and ask him about the ring. She knew he was still in his office. She had had the strength to glance at him once when her duties forced her to go out of her office and do her rounds.

At one point that day, though, her sadness and sorrow had taken a new form. One she had no control over.

Anger... it burned and bubbled inside her.

She had forgiven him, she had started forgiving _herself_, but when her mother brought the ring into the scene… she just… she just felt so lost, so confused. Her emotions had gone haywire because of it. She'd cried many tears; she'd battered herself internally, because of it.

She had already released her anger at her mother, to no avail.

House was the only one who could answer her burning questions. He was also the only one she could unleash the sudden burn of anger within her, among other clashing emotions.

Why had he planned on proposing?

Why had he been _so sure_ (she thought of the engraving) she'd say 'yes'?

Why didn't he tell Wilson, or anyone, for that matter? She could have at least been warned.

Her face fell.

She didn't want to think that him planning on proposing would have stopped her from ending their relationship by condoning his misdemeanors and hurting her. She still would have broken up with him… but she'd probably have let him go gently.

That night, anger was the only thing her body wanted to embrace.

He'd respected her decision. He never asked her again after those two times, choosing to throw away what could have been, instead, literally. He didn't even use the ring against her, never bringing it up. He just… let go, too. And it… hurt her just as much as it pissed her off. She just didn't know what to think or what to feel anymore.

So Lisa Cuddy did what she did best: Tackle the problem head-on.

She wasn't going to fight him… she just needed answers.

Avoiding him just wouldn't work anymore.

She picked up the box from her desk drawer before exiting his office and, suddenly nervous, making her way up to his floor and into his office.

House looked up when he heard his office door open. He was alone in the office; his team had gone home already. He didn't like staying at his place much. Everything just reminded him of her.

He eyed her for a while, his face blank. His eyes, however, conveyed its concern and dread for what could happen or what she could say. He sensed something was off.

She stood in front of his desk, her face emotionless.

A second later, she placed an all too familiar box on his desk, in front of him, and his eyes widened in fear, pain and insecurity all at the same time. He chose to remain silent, but if she saw the worry and dread in his eyes, she didn't mention anything about it.

"My mother got this from your trash." She softly said, now uncertain as to what she should do or say. She had gone up in search for answers, but the palpable tension and awkwardness made her feel uneasy and invasive. She couldn't help but ask herself whether what she was doing, at that moment, was uncalled for.

House's eyes softened as he stared at the box containing the ring he had purchased months ago, for her. The memory of his own smile upon pocketing it for the first time, upon purchase, hit him like a speeding bullet, and he was at a loss for words. He had forgotten about the ring, and seeing it in front of him now… he felt like a lump had formed in his throat. There was no other way to describe what he felt, as pathetic as it sounded: he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest again.

He couldn't look her in the eyes.

Doing so might hurt him more than he already was. He just wanted the pain to stop. Every ache, every throb in his body, mind, and heart—he just wanted to stop hurting.

She was probably looking at him as if he was some pathetic excuse for a man. Was she disgusted upon seeing the ring? Did her guilt transition into anger for making her feel?

He thought he had thrown it away, the ring.

There had been no reason to keep it the way he'd kept her great grandfather's book. There would be no occasion for the ring that had been purchased. And the date on the ring had expired.

He had been tossed aside, his hope in finally finding happiness with her and Rachel had been shattered. He felt the same way he had when he realized he hadn't really detoxed from the vicodin; that she hadn't been by his side at all.

He thought he had thrown away the priceless symbol of his commitment and love to her the night after his hopes came crashing down upon him, again.

She had made it as clear as day that there wouldn't be a second chance for him.

There she stood, in front of him, waiting for him say something after having situated the box on his table.

He had never been as embarrassed as he felt at that moment.

He should have felt angry. He should have laughed at her audacity to ask him anything about it at all. He should have been enraged that it was in her possession.

But no, he only felt like a complete fool.

This was the reason he had never dared to love anyone again after Stacy.

He stood up and tried his best to limp as quickly as he could, out of the room, to escape her and her questions. Unfortunately, it was a really bad pain day and she had two fully functional legs whereas he had but one and a half.

She blocked his attempt at an exit. He hung his head low, looking at anything but her. He didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. He didn't want to see _anything _she could be feeling at that moment.

"What more do you want from me?" he asked her in a low, pleading voice. His tone sounded that of someone so dejected, so broken, but she needed answers only he could provide.

"Why?" she asked, her voice breaking as well. She suddenly hated herself for subjecting him to this. He didn't deserve it. Not from her or anyone else. _Especially_ not from her.

His eyes shot to hers and she instantly wanted to drown in them just to save him. She wanted to pull him into her arms then and there and just forget everything. His eyes pierced her so deeply with one look, full of pain and suffering, she wanted to take back everything they had said and done to one another and hold him.

But she couldn't. If only it were the right thing to do.

"Why else?" he rhetorically asked her, his voice as quiet as the night. He pushed down the hand she had unconsciously placed on his arm when she blocked his escape.

Her eyes shined the slightest bit, softening, letting him know without words that she needed his answer desperately.

"It is what it is," he whispered, taking on an uneasy step towards his freedom, the door.

He met her eyes, steeling himself and trying to keep every emotion from reaching his eyes. Everything but the raw ache that even he couldn't hide nor deflect anymore.

"Now it means nothing more than what it could have been," he miserably intoned.

"I had been stupid enough to think I could actually be happy," his eyes never wandered from hers. "Stupid enough to believe _I, _of all people, could make _you_ happy. Just as stupid as I had been in believing _I_ could be who you've needed all along."

She wanted to negate him; tell him no one had ever made her as happy as he could, that no one else would ever make her feel the way she does whenever she was with him, but she stood rooted to her spot, her mouth unable to voice anything. She wanted to tell him he had done nothing wrong, that it was her whose insane standards pushed him away and drove him to the brink of his own destruction yet again. Her eyes watered, tears threatening to spill yet again.

"House—"

"Do what you want with the ring. It means nothing to me anymore."

Tears had started framing Cuddy's face and she remained immobile in front of him. She never knew this was how she made him feel. She had no idea just how far deep his pain ran.

"House—"

"What else do you want me to say?" House bellowed in unbridled agony, his eyes killing her with one look.

He would have said more; pour his heart out, let her know just how much he was hiding, but he chose to swallow his emotions and keep what had been left of his dignity.

He walked away, cursing himself upon allowing her to see a tear escape his eye as he did.

Cuddy watched him leave, his limp painfully pronounced, his face pale.

Her breath had caught upon seeing a tear roll down his cheek as he left her. It scarred her, seeing it.

She walked towards his desk and did for them what she thought was best.

She took hold of the ring box and discarded it from where her mother had retrieved it.

The trash.

She turned and wiped at her tears, hoping that through everything, there would be some way they could find themselves again. Even just as friends… because after everything that had been said and done, they needed each other still.

She wanted to run after him and do her best to nurse his wounds, but she couldn't. Not when she had been the one to cut him first.

So she, too, walked away.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Cuddy's house, 10 PM<em>**

Crawling into bed, she couldn't help but lay down on what was once his side of the bed—she'd been doing that a lot lately. She tried to imagine the memory of his warmth permeating the space in which she lay, but she couldn't. All she felt was the soft but cold bed sheet against her skin.

She pulled her duvet up against her neck, but the warmth it provided could never be a substitute to those strong arms that had wrapped her with love and security.

If she hadn't pushed him away—if she had… if she hadn't run from his arms… would they have been wrapped around her now? Would his fingers be brushing feather-light caresses along her arm? Would he be showering sweet lingering kisses on her neck?

Would her left ring finger be wearing the symbol of his commitment and love for her and her daughter?

Would she have been even happier as she thought she ever could be? Would _he_ have been happy, finally? Would she have _finally_ made Gregory House happy?

Her lower lip trembled as she fought back the tears, not so successfully.

Questions plagued her mind; regrets raced through her heart.

No one could ever replace him.

She would always love him.

Only him.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her face with her right hand.

She wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. She just knew it.

Cuddy made her way to the kitchen, planning to make herself a cup of tea.

As she stood facing her counter, her mind and heart were filled with only him. And the hurt mercilessly consumed every part of her.

She could remember the last time he had held her whilst her back was turned on him, surprising her. She vividly remembered how his strong arms had snaked around her waist as he pulled her against his solid chest, bathing her in the security of his embrace.

Tears slid down her face as she recalled how her head had turned to look at him. She had smiled radiantly up at him while her hand snaked up to cup his nape, pulling his head down for a 'good morning' kiss. He had smiled back when they pulled away, content.

She moved to her living room, extracting the ring box from her bag, bringing it back to her kitchen.

She had returned to his office earlier that night and extricated the ring and its box from the trash, unable to just discard it.

She couldn't have thrown away the only proof, the only remainder, of his love for her and the reminder of how she had crushed his heart with the pointed heel of her stiletto.

She did what she couldn't have done for too long earlier—she opened the box and let the ring lay in front of her in all its stunning glory.

A sob and another tear escaped her as she murdered her own heart, drowning in sorrow, shame, and guilt.

She never thought that he'd _ever_ plan on asking her. It was inconceivable to her, if she was being honest.

But there it was, laying in front of her… the one thing she never thought he'd give her.

Stability.

A family.

_Himself._

_Forever._

All the things she had been trying so hard to seek for so long.

She was broken from her reflection as her kettle reminded her of its presence and purpose. She turned off the burner and left the kettle untouched. She wasn't in the mood for anything anymore.

She just wanted the pain to stop.

She carried the ring, untouched in its box, to her bedroom and laid down, on her side, on his side of the bed.

Her eyes took in every detail of the ring. It was a simple yet stunning ring. The diamond sang of the ring's beauty and prestige on its own, sparkling for her who was supposed to receive it. The ring shined from within, as if light radiated from it on its own.

It had been less than two days since she had found out about the ring, but she still couldn't believe that he had planned on asking her to marry him.

As her eyes traced the only engraving on the inner shank, all she could think of and couldn't deny anymore was, yes… she would have said yes.

At one time she would have been giddy, her stomach probably feeling like it had been occupied with butterflies. But at that moment, all she felt was remorse and shame.

She could have cried a river or an ocean, but she would never get back the painful words and deeds they'd exchanged since that night.

She had been willing to pursue a relationship with him years ago, whether or not he was on vicodin. Why had she willingly thrown him away like a used rag over _one pill_?

They could have talked; they could have yelled at each other; she could have given him another chance; they could have compromised. But they didn't, because she had given him zero chances at redeeming himself. She had been too emotional, too hurt, to let him explain or even try working things out between them.

She had run away from him; she had said goodbye and walked away.

He just… let her.

He just… respected her decision.

Two times he had asked her not to leave him—to warrant him another chance. She turned him down both times, afraid of what a second chance could have entailed. More hurt. More heartache. More tears.

She had been too focused on how he could hurt her again to think of anything else. She had never considered how, at the same time, she had been at her happiest with him. How, even if she hadn't asked him, he had loved Rachel without needing words to express it, without holding himself back at all.

How… he was the only one her heart would beat for.

She had been too afraid to see why despite everything else, every asinine act, every stupid or unkind gesture, she loved him more than she could have loved anyone else.

For more than two decades…

He could make her feel at her highest or lowest. But that was love; it was a gamble.

Just like House, she had been too afraid.

But the vast difference between them had been…

He had gone all-in.

She folded and took everything, including his heart and hope, with her.

It had been late for her to realize that her crisis and House's short relapse had been nothing but bumps along the long road she had started taking with him. It had been nothing but obstacles placed before her to make her realize that he was truly worth fighting for.

She thought she had to let go to free herself from his ability to hurt her any further.

She had never been more wrong.

Cuddy carefully took hold of the ring with her thumb and index finger holding it by the shank. The date engraved met her eyes yet again and she could feel the daggers stabbing through her, again. Her hands trembled as she slid the ring onto her finger.

A perfect fit.

That small thing made her burst into more tears, her body curled in the fetal position as her she bathed the sheets beneath her with her liquefied pain and sorrow.

He knew everything about her. Her favorite books, hobbies, music, food, among other things. He knew her best features and attitude.

He knew every single detail.

He also knew her flaws. He loved her unconditionally anyway. The one thing she had never been able to do during their relationship.

They were already too far gone, though, she thought grimly. She had hurt him beyond comprehension. Hypocritical would be an understatement if she finally decided now that she would give him a second chance.

Their time had already passed.

There seemed to be no more chances.

They just couldn't go back anymore.

She had butchered everything they had, including their hearts.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _Seriously... things couldn't go farther South after this, right? ;D_

**_LOVED, LIKED, HATE ME EVEN MORE FOR BEING SO EVIL? Please leave a review to lemme know your thoughts!  
>And that I haven't driven you away and you guys are still interested... *LOL, got scared much? xD* <em>**

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. X

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: THREE thumbs up for Penny, for squeezing this into her uber busy schedule! :D As always, thanks, love! :* **_

_Thank you for all the kind and awesome words and support, you guys! :D You bloody scalawags are awesome! _

**_Care for a dash of Hope? :) _**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>X<em>**

.

**_After the confrontation..._**

Wilson watched as his friend dashed out of the hospital building, limping as quickly as he could to his bike. The look on the diagnostician's face was crystal clear from where Wilson was sitting, watching inside his car.

He was _desperate_ to get away, no doubt from Cuddy.

He sighed and ran a hand down his tired face. The two probably talked about the ring, and obviously it hadn't gone well at all.

He followed House as the man revved his bike and raced to the exit, either thinking of going to a bar or locking himself up in his apartment with countless bottles of bourbon and, god forbid, Vicodin. He followed House by a distance, not wanting his best friend to get more worked up by knowing that he was on his tail.

House parked his bike a few minutes later in front of a bar not far from the hospital.

Wilson was about to go through the process of exiting his car and telling House not to drink himself into a stupor until he saw the man remove his helmet and fiercely rub at his face with his shoulders slumped in defeat.

There were very few things that could make _the _Gregory House let out a tear or two—he wasn't crying, Wilson could see he wasn't. Wilson believed he wouldn't. _Cuddy_, Wilson's thought… was she the cause of what he was currently seeing?

He saw House take a deep breath before entering the bar, probably intent on drowning himself with bourbon and killing his liver just to forget, even for a few hours.

He watched through the window as House ordered something. He took a moment and thought of his next move.

A while later, Wilson finally decided to let House try to forget, if for a while. He walked back to his car, willing to wait faithfully for his best friend, so he could bring him back to his apartment safe and sound. No way was he going to allow the man to drive his bike, drunk.

Not under his watch.

"Out for a ride?" Wilson called out to House who exited the bar three and a half hours later.

House's head snapped to the left to see his best friend leaning against his silver Volvo, hands shoved into his pockets.

"No," House answered, pointing towards the street. "Was about to get a cab," he told Wilson, slurring a bit.

"'Course you were!" Wilson sarcastically said as he approached the cane-less man.

"What brings you here, Jimmy boy?" House asked, palming his own jaw and scratching his face a bit. He was in no mood to be berated by the judgmental oncologist.

"Taking my drunken friend home," Wilson said, pretending to look around. "Walks with a cane. Have you seen him?"

House snickered, about to turn his back on the man when his bike keys were roughly snatched from his hand.

"Hey!" House growled, glaring at him.

Wilson thrust his index finger at House, "You are _not _driving while intoxicated!" He angrily chastised the diagnostician. The two men engaged in a staring contest for a few seconds until House looked away, head hanging low.

In a calmer voice, Wilson told him sternly, "Get in the car. I'm driving you home." With a sigh, House conceded to Wilson's wishes and limped heavily to the Volvo. Wilson watched as House entered his car before making for the bar to retrieve House's missing cane. A minute later he exited the building and sat in the driver's seat, glancing only once at his forlorn best friend. He sighed and started his car, intent on bringing him home unscathed.

Silence blanketed the two friends as Wilson drove House home. One had nothing to say while the other had no idea what he should or shouldn't say.

Eight minutes into the drive, House looked out the window as they waited for the traffic light to go green.

Steeling himself, he muttered, "Spit it out, Wilson. You're too quiet." He had also noticed that the man couldn't help but glance at and study him while he drove. It was getting too annoying.

With eyes focused on anything but the man driving the car, House murmured in a dark tone, "Cuddy told you."

Wilson sighed, breathing through his nose.

He looked at House for a quick second before returning his focus on the road, saying, "She asked me if I knew."

"You didn't."

At one time, House would have been proud, but at that moment, he didn't feel anything at all. Emptiness engulfed him.

"You were really going to ask her?" Wilson seriously inquired after a few seconds of silence.

House would have snarkily replied with, "Yes, got her a ring and everything," but he only nodded once. He turned his head towards the window again, thinking to himself.

"She would have said yes, you know," Wilson remarked, mentally hitting himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt bad and guilty for unintentionally pouring salt into House's wounds.

House remained quiet even after Wilson apologized with a quiet 'sorry' for what he'd said. He couldn't help but think that yes, Cuddy would have said yes.

The rest of the drive to House's apartment was quiet, neither of them speaking until Wilson pulled up in front of the building.

"What do you plan on doing now?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged, head lowered as he said, "What can I do?"

He got out of the car, slamming the car door closed behind him.

Wilson was about to drive off when House suddenly turned and knocked on the car's roof. Wilson rolled down the window, waiting for the man to speak.

"Get my bike from the bar," House ordered, dropping his bike keys on the seat he had just vacated.

Wilson smirked. "It's your bike."

"That's why you're bringing it _here_."

Wilson stared at him with a furry brow arched.

"It's what happens when you try 'saving' me from myself and pulling a DUI."

The oncologist rolled his eyes. "A thank you used to suffice."

"Glad to have you back though, House," Wilson told him after a moment.

House only nodded curtly before turning and leaving Wilson.

Truthfully, Wilson knew House was only deflecting. It was how the man coped with everything bad that happened in his life. He sighed before rolling the window back up and drove home knowing there was nothing more he could do other than keep an eye on House.

* * *

><p>Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital had been quite the well-oiled machine for more than a week already—it always was, but recently, there'd been no idiotic ploys for insane procedures, no moronic antics, nothing out of the ordinary patient complaints and there had been no staff complaints regarding a certain curmudgeon doctor.<p>

House had been… tamed. Or so it seemed.

Nobody knew why, but they suspected that it had everything to do with the fallout of the diagnostician and Dean of Medicine's relationship. It had been quite a shocker, really, but it had also been, to most people, inevitable.

Cuddy and Wilson should have been worried about what was going on already, but neither of them thought it could be anything serious. House's two best friends believed that House was just being House—distancing himself from everyone, practicing his old MO again.

The trio was still shaken by the ring's sudden appearance. Reappearance, in House's case. But they tried to cope. They had to. At work, it was business as usual. They crumbled at night when their work was done and keeping up the façade of strength and authority was over.

They had to move on, even if only at a snail's pace.

None of them spoke of the ring again.

House and Cuddy were still hurt by the confrontation. Cuddy never showed it; although they saw everything in House's posture and his avoidance. He spoke to no one unless he had to. He never went to Cuddy unless he had no choice but to do so. He did his duties at the hospital promptly so she wouldn't be forced to confront him about anything.

He had retreated and locked himself up in his own shell, once again.

* * *

><p><strong><em>One week and three days later, Friday, 4 PM<em>**

He groaned as his telephone rang relentlessly. Ten more rings later he got up and growled "What?" into the phone. He was supposed to have peace and quiet for the rest of the day since he'd just finished up with his patient for the week.

"No need to shout!" Arlene Cuddy scolded mockingly at the other end of the line, smirking playfully as she looked down at her little granddaughter.

"Besides, if you answered soon, you—"

House sighed, lowering his voice. The woman, as unbearable as she was, was still Cuddy's mother.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"No hello?" Arlene joked.

"I'm better at goodbyes," House snarled slightly, about to hang up when an all too familiar voice shouted his name with an excitement like no other.

Rachel.

He sighed wearily, bringing the phone to his ear again.

"Hello, what do you want?" he asked Arlene, tired.

Arlene rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Well that's an improvement," she commented.

"I've had a long day, please cut to the chase."

Arlene sighed dramatically.

"You used to be more fun," she commented whiningly before quickly adding, "I need you to pick Rachel up from my house."

"Doesn't she have a mother?"

"Hows!" he heard Rachel shout happily, again.

"My daughter is a part-time mother at best, do the math."

Sudden rage and the strong urge to refute Arlene's words made House sit up on his couch. He switched off his TV and breathed through his nose, trying to compose himself.

"Your daughter is a great mother to Rachel," he viciously spat, defending Cuddy.

"She's sick. Her daughter is, too. She told me she'd pick Rachel up tonight, but she won't be able to make it. I have other plans."

"Gramma, wanna talk to Hows, please!" He heard Rachel whine.

"She doesn't sound sick."

"You don't sound like a cripple."

"Do you want me to give her the phone?" Arlene asked him, her voice and tone going soft.

House shook his head, "No."

"How about Cuddy's sister? Can't _she_ pick her up?"

"Julia has three kids. Rachel's sick. Think you can figure out where I'm going with this?"

"How sick is she?" House's tone implied a demand for a quick answer. His tone had lowered, his rage at Arlene's earlier comment slightly being pushed back.

"Sick enough," was Arlene's only comment, delivered as seriously as she could.

He rubbed at his face roughly, remembering how Cuddy's mother practically despised sick children. A second later, he made up his mind; he was already starting to regret agreeing to pick up and deliver Rachel to the woman he would give everything not to interact with these days.

"I'm on my way," House said before hanging up and getting ready to save his ex's daughter from her own grandmother.

Arlene placed the phone back on its cradle and smiled down at Rachel.

"House is coming to pick you up," she told her grandbaby with a smile, playfully pinching Rachel's cheek. Rachel smiled widely, already excited.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Arlene's house, 5 PM<em>**

"She's not sick," was House's first comment the moment he was able to assess Rachel.

Rachel pouted and her brows furrowed in confusion. "I not sick!" she argued, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Well, I still have plans," Arlene shrugged, smirking. Like him, she didn't bother with hellos and small talk.

"You told me she was _sick_!" House argued in a clipped hiss, trying his best for Rachel not to hear him arguing with her grandmother.

"You wouldn't have driven here if you knew beforehand that she's not," Arlene knowingly stated, crossing her arms in front of her.

House sighed, internally hitting himself upon remembering that Arlene would do anything from lying through her teeth to disrupting busy hospitals just to get what she wanted or to make her point.

"Give me her bag and we'll go," he told Arlene in resignation. He mentally hit himself; he shouldn't have been worried about Rachel. Arlene wouldn't really try getting rid of her granddaughter had she been sick. The woman was a lot of things, but she wasn't entirely heartless.

The concern that had crept up his spine and spread through his entire being when Arlene said Rachel was 'sick enough' for her to call him had his stomach in knots. He knew Rachel was Cuddy's everything. And to him, Cuddy and Rachel… meant to him more than any word would ever be able to express. He had realized just how much they really mattered to him the moment he lost them. He then told himself that he'd do anything for them thereon. If they'd let him.

He had never intended to fall in love with Cuddy's daughter at first. He had intended to be at peace with her, to befriend her, because he knew he had to if he wanted his relationship with Cuddy to work. But… to think he could be more than a friend; a paternal figure to her… to slowly go from tolerating her to befriending her, and then liking her genuinely… he hadn't intended that. He'd been too far gone and involved before he realized that he'd gone through the process of learning how to love her.

Did he really love the kid? It was so foreign to him, loving Rachel as if she were his own… loving someone else other than Cuddy. But he didn't regret it. Not a single part of him regretted ever growing to love Rachel.

Just like Cuddy, Rachel made him better. Those two… they made him _want_ to do and be better.

So, when Arlene told him about Rachel being sick, the instinct to protect the little girl from anything that would try to harm her emerged from deep inside him. He just had to go to her and find out himself if it was nothing or something that could become worse.

The large man was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a hand tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket. He looked down and was met with a pair of innocent blue eyes.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Rachel asked, a small smile on her face.

House smirked, "I was thinking about you."

The three year old girl grinned up at him, swaying from side to side as they waited for her grandmother to pack up her stuff. "Me?" she asked in a cutesy manner that House had taken _months_ to get used to.

"Yup! I keep thinking why a monkey like you can talk," he teased with a smirk and an eyebrow arched.

Rachel giggled before shaking her head. "I'm not a monkey!" she defended.

House bent down and scooped her off the floor in the blink of an eye, making Rachel yelp and squeal at the same time. Her limbs instantly wrapped around him and he gave her a grin. He let his arms unwrap themselves from around her small body, but she was practically glued to him. "See?" he smirked, "Definitely a monkey."

Rachel huffed, lips puckered out in defeat while her eyes tried to leer at him. Upon realizing she'd lost the argument, and that she was, in fact, a monkey, she sighed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Sleepy?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Here you go," Arlene said, walking towards them from one of the rooms in her house. She handed him a pink backpack, smiling at Rachel who was clinging onto him. "That's a good look on you," she quipped, snickering.

"Chicks dig these," he stated smugly, "Kids are great bait to reel in the ladies."

Arlene smiled condescendingly at the man, "I'm sure it goes very well with your cane."

"Which one?"

Arlene scoffed in disgust, though a small smirk threatened to tug at one corner of her mouth.

"Off you go now," she waved them off in feigned hurriedness. "I've got a place to go and—"

"A messiah to do?" House threw in, cutting her off.

"House!"

The man smirked while the little person in his arms turned to look at Arlene, giggling at the look on her face.

"So…" House looked at Rachel, almost nose-to-nose with her, "Ready?" he asked, the smirk still present on his face.

"Yes," Rachel nodded happily, excited to go back home to Mommy with House.

They said their goodbyes and House carried Rachel to his car. He secured her on the car seat Arlene had provided and walked to the driver's seat. He adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could see Rachel as well before starting the car and driving back to the little girl's home.

He still wasn't sure about seeing Cuddy, but he had to deliver her daughter to her.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Cuddy's house, 6:20 PM<em>**

"Well, you look like—"

"Words!" Cuddy quickly chastised him in a tired voice, still confused as to why House was standing in front of her with her daughter.

"Momma!" Rachel was about to hug her, but Cuddy only held Rachel's hands, keeping her at a somewhat safe distance. Rachel frowned at this, confused.

"Hi, honey," Cuddy greeted her daughter, running her hand through Rachel's hair.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, looking up to meet House's gaze.

"Your mother decided that Jesus is more important than your daughter. You sure she's Jewish?" House smirked, though his tone lacked the usual air of wit and sarcasm. "Maybe she converted...?"he added in suggestion.

"I'm going to kill her," Cuddy muttered under her breath as she stood up. "I sent Rachel over to her because—"

"You're sick. I didn't know," House answered awkwardly before mumbling, "At least two out of three things she said turned out to be true."

"What else did she say?" Cuddy crossed her arms across her chest and licked her lips before looking back at him.

"That that little Padawan," he titled his head to motion at Rachel, "is sick, too. BUT," he immediately added, knowing worry would start to eat at Cuddy at once, "she isn't. And I quote, your mother told me she's "sick enough" that she had to call _me_ since _you_, her mother, won't answer her calls."

"She didn't call me. Not one ring." House snorted, annoyed at having been played. He should have known better.

"Rach, why don't you go play in your room?" Cuddy suggested with a soft smile. Rachel shrugged before turning to look at House, waving and smiling at him.

One corner of House's mouth tugged up a bit before he awkwardly told her, "Beat it. Go play."

Cuddy watched House's face as he spoke softly to her daughter. She had always felt a tug on her heart whenever she saw them together. The two of them watched as Rachel padded off to her room, walking in a nonlinear path.

House and Cuddy stood in front of each other, both as silent as the night. Cuddy put a hand to her forehead, trying in vain to push back the next incoming wave of headaches. House fidgeted a bit from where he stood, looking into her eyes for a while before looking away.

"How are you?" he asked her. He hadn't really known she was sick. The past few days, he really hadn't been his usual self—prying into everything involving her. He'd done his best to avoid anything that had to do with her.

Cuddy's head shot to him and her forehead creased. Was he trying to establish small talk or was he slowly going somewhere with his question?

"Just a bad bug, I—" she answered in a quit whisper, a cough suddenly cutting her off. She cleared her throat before crossing her arms again. House only nodded before they stood quietly in front of one another, again.

House fidgeted from where he stood, contemplating his next suggestion.

A second later he asked her, "Want me to take her for the night?" She didn't really look fit to handle an active three year old in her current condition. He knew he didn't have to offer to babysit, but he felt like he had to. It was only the right thing to do.

Their eyes met and she bit the inside of her cheek, doubting whether she heard him right.

"You want to take her with you for the night?" Cuddy tentatively asked, brows furrowing.

"Your apartment is barely baby proofed."

House nodded to both, shrugging, "I know. I'm doing this only if you want me to."

"Why?"

"I'm not entirely a selfish ass, Cuddy," he whispered. "You're sick. I don't want your mother's need for sex to get in the way of your getting better. Besides… if you end up going to work sick, I'll experience the brunt of it."

House paused, feigning a sudden realization. "Wait, no. I really _am_ a selfish ass."

"House, I—"

"Relax, I'm not expecting anything in return," he cut her off.

"I don't expect anything from you anymore." His eyes met hers for the fraction of a second before he looked away.

He hadn't meant that last phrase to come out as harsh, but he couldn't help the way he felt. He was still hurt, there were bound to be a few slips of how he truly felt here and there.

Cuddy bit her lower lip, looking away. She shouldn't feel hurt, but she did. She deserved his barbs, in a way. House was never really one to say how he felt if it involved having to make himself vulnerable —that made trying to communicate with him hard.

"You sure about this?" she asked him, choosing to ignore his previous hit.

House sighed, but nodded.

"Unless you don't trust me with her…" he trailed off, lowering his head. He would never let anything bad happen to that kid.

Cuddy was quick to refute him, hissing, "I trust you with her! Don't you dare say that I don't!" Her breath hitched the slightest bit and she covered it with a cough. She cleared her throat and looked down, composing herself and trying to steady her breathing. She may have left him for his inability to make himself open to her fears and pain, his unreliability, his instability, but she trusted him with Rachel. She trusted him with her life.

She trusted him with everything, _everything_ but her heart.

"I'm sorry," she murmured after a second. "I trust you with Rachel," she repeated, looking into his eyes as she said those words, "I was just surprised that you offered to take her." House let out a barely-there smile before nodding a substitution for 'thank you'.

He wasn't sure of a lot of things these days, but he was being genuine in wanting to help take Rachel from Cuddy while she got better. He had no ulterior motive.

"Let me just pack a bag for her," Cuddy said quietly, turning her back and leaving the door open for him.

House stood rooted on her doorstep, refusing to step inside her home. It held too many memories for him. Even more than his apartment did. He didn't want to subject himself to an influx of memories. He didn't want more reminders of how much they've screwed things up by taking a step inside her home—the home he had almost called his own.

Cuddy went to Rachel's room and found her daughter playing 'Feed the Monkey' by herself. A smile decorated her lips as Rachel's voice took on that animated tone she had heard many a time from House.

"Hey," Cuddy said, sitting on the couch in Rachel's room, "Wanna hang out with House tonight at his place?" she asked her daughter. Rachel nodded excitedly, a smile on her cherubic face. "Okay then," Cuddy smiled, tapping a finger on Rachel's little nose. She stood up and packed a bag for Rachel, setting the one House had handed her on the floor.

"You come with us?" Rachel asked her as she stood next to Cuddy after abandoning her game.

Cuddy shook her head, "No, baby, "she said, wishing she could, "Mommy's sick. I need to rest so we could play again soon. Okay?" Rachel nodded.

"You be a good girl for House, okay?" Rachel grinned before nodding again, hugging her mother on impulse. Cuddy gave her a quick hug and kiss before steering her back out the room and to their front door where House remained standing. A frown formed on her lips upon realizing he hadn't even stepped inside. She met his eyes as she handed him Rachel's bag.

"I appreciate this," she told him sincerely, looking into the eyes she loved so much.

"Thank you," she whispered with a genuine smile.

"You're welcome," he nodded.

"Let's goooo!" Rachel tugged at his hand, grinning up at him, knowing House had lots of lollies and chocolates at his house.

"No sweets or junk food," Cuddy warned, looking from Rachel to House.

"But Mooooom!" the duo whined, one pouting while the other one smirked.

"Wha'bout popcorn?" Rachel inquired seriously, using her pout and puppy dog eyes to her advantage.

Cuddy rolled her eyes at the smirk House had plastered on his face. A second later, she couldn't help but smile fondly as she looked at the two loves of her life, conspiring against her for _popcorn_.

"Okay," Cuddy acquiesced. Rachel rarely had the chance to spend time with House anyway. Besides, there was no doubt that the incorrigible man would give her daughter more than popcorn anyway.

Rachel gave House an exaggeratedly psyched high five, her body swaying slightly as her palm came in contact with House's much bigger one.

"Say goodbye to your mom so we can go," House softly told Rachel, meeting those innocent blue eyes that had the power to warm his cold heart.

Rachel gave Cuddy a hug and a kiss before asking House to carry her. House obliged and lifted her off her feet and into his arms. He adjusted her on his hip so they were both facing Cuddy.

"Why you no give Momma a kiss?" Rachel asked House, the left side of her mouth tugged in a confused angle, her eyebrows drawn together in suspicion. She had been used to seeing them kiss. Mommy used to kiss House a lot. House used to kiss Mommy a lot, too.

"Yeah, no kisses for me?" Cuddy asked, playing along. Internally though, her heart was hammering against her chest and she felt short of breath, nervous. She didn't know if she was stepping on inappropriate grounds just a week and a few days after their altercation.

She wanted things to be civil between them again. She missed him. She missed him being around, hovering over her while she worked, annoying the life out of her. She missed him barging into her office to have some crazy procedure signed and approved.

"Mommy has cooties," House smirked at Rachel, avoiding meeting Cuddy's gaze.

"You can put her down, you know," Cuddy softly commented, a smile on her lips, changing the topic. "She knows how to walk."

"I like the exercise," House excused, shrugging, not letting Rachel or Cuddy know that he liked carrying the kid. It made him feel needed, trusted completely. Besides, he'd never admit it out loud, but he liked how Rachel clung onto him as if he wasn't the world's most screwed up person. It was a feeling he had been welcoming too much, lately. He knew it'd have to end at some point, but for now, he was living it up as much as he can.

Cuddy could see right through him. Smiling, she said, "Right…"

"Do you need a car seat?" she asked him after a while.

"Your mother lent me one, we're good to go," House answered, gesturing towards his car.

"Okay."

There was silence between them for a minute or two, Rachel slightly fidgeting at the palpable awkwardness filling the air around them. She didn't like that kind of quiet.

Cuddy licked her lips and swallowed before asking House quietly, "Will things ever get back to normal between us?"

House met her eyes, his own blue oceans calming. "When was it ever normal between us?" he asked with a small, awkward smile. He turned his head towards Rachel who had started running her tiny palms across his stubbly cheek.

"You know what I meant," Cuddy told him, focused on the way Rachel was focused on House's whiskers. Her hands longed to do the same thing. She missed touching him, feeling his skin against her own. She missed the way he held her as well. She wondered whether the pain of involuntarily remembering every moment they shared together in her home was the reason he didn't dare take a step into her house earlier.

House frowned, shaking his head, causing Rachel to huff a little from having been temporarily deprived the privilege to amuse herself with his scratchy cheeks.

"I don't know," he told her honestly.

"At least this is a start," he added, his face taking on a calm expression, almost content. He hadn't really expected them to be able to be civil to each other just yet, but, again, thanks to the girl wrapped around him, they were able to do exactly just that—be civil without pretending to do so.

Cuddy nodded in agreement. "Yeah," she breathed. She then crossed her arms in front of her—not defensively—and looked at Rachel again.

"She really likes using you as a scratching post," she smiled. House rolled his eyes.

"She's a monkey, not a cat," House smirked, earning a pout and a glare from Rachel. She had her "I'm not a monkey!" face on display.

Cuddy watched in amusement as the two engaged in a staring contest. Rachel blinked first, making the man-child let out a, "Ha!" Rachel pouted, but kept her eyes glued on House. House smirked at her before sticking his tongue out. Rachel sighed, looking at her mother who only smiled and shrugged at her. Rachel ended up slumping atop House's shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck—her favorite spot.

"We should go," House said, his voice low. They were on good terms again, but the awkwardness was still there. He was thankful that the drug he'd taken earlier that morning was still doing its job. He just hoped as hell Riggin's experimental drug wouldn't disappoint him.

"You should," Cuddy agreed, nodding, "Please call me when you get to your place." House nodded before looking away.

Cuddy turned her head to glance at his car and the quiet neighborhood, the awkwardness still making her a bit uncomfortable.

She was completely taken aback when she felt warm, dry lips come in contact with her cheek. She felt his lips brush against her feverish skin and she almost shivered. Her eyes met his and her face flushed as Rachel giggled at the look of shock on her mother's face.

"We'll see you on Sunday," House told her, turning on his heel to carry Rachel to his car.

Cuddy just stood staring at House and Rachel. The little girl lifted her face from House's neck, waving at her with a wide smile on her pretty face.

"Bye, Momma!" she said, blowing her a kiss as well.

Slowly, a small smile graced Lisa Cuddy's lips, knowing she had gotten what she secretly wanted. The kiss had been House's way of letting her know that they were okay; that the avoidance and hostility was over, at least for now. They were civil again. House was right, at least that was a start.

She waved back with a radiant smile at the little girl who had made that possible. Her little angel, her Rachel.

They had already driven off before she realized that House had just offered to take care of Rachel for the entire weekend, giving her ample time to get better.

Her hand unconsciously crept up to touch the spot where his lips had come in contact with her cheek. She shook her head, a sweet smile playing at her lips.

Unbelievable.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _Who's ready for some House/Rachel bonding time? Raise your foot and wiggle your toes!_

_LOVED, LIKED, TOO FLUFFY or LOVE ME FOR NOT BEING A MASOCHIST (THIS CHAPTER, AT LEAST)? _

**_Please leave a review to lemme know your thoughts!_**

**_OH! AND YOU SMUDDICTS WIN! SMUT TO COME... Though I won't say if it's soon or not. Still have some stuff to go through. ;)_**

**Thank you for reading and leaving reviews! :D WOW! 300+! Please keep 'em coming! Love hearing from everyone, + or - !**


	12. XI

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: First of all, I'd like to thank my Potter Nerd beta, Penelope S Cartwright for betaing this chappie for me despite her being high from HP7 DH pt II. xD**_

_I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update in quite a while! I've been SO busy with a Uni subject called Multimedia Production! Our Prelim requirement (a horror clip we had to write, shoot, and edit within less than 3 weeks) was finally presented last Friday so I have a few days free before the next requirement starts to kill us again. I haven't had time AT ALL to write or even read fanfics! It's been a hellish three weeks for me... _

_Anyway, this one had already been written before the craziness started. And since I couldn't write anything at all, I decided to cut the chapter short and post it already to at least give you guys something to read._

_Sigh. I hope I have more time during 2nd quarter(Midterm)... I'm only thankful we don't have to shoot scenes in different places anymore (at least during Midterm, because we'll be shooting stuff again for the Final requirement). We have GROUP requirements and INDIVIDUAL requirements and laboratory activities. It's crazy, I tell you! We bet by the end of the semester, everyone of us will get sick from the stress and lack of sleep... What's SAD is that the professor doesn't (not the slightest bit!) acknowledge the (+) stuff about what we've done. A praise never escapes his lips. He only states what he thinks went wrong. :( So, it's like doing and submitting requirements for him to mock/criticize/bash/(sometimes)constructively criticize us. Enough with my sad 4th year, 1st Semester life..._

_Sadly, I doubt I'd be able to give you guys anything on my birthday (Monday, the 18th.) I'm turning 20! No longer a teen, just an ager. xD_

_Really hope you guys are still with me! :) Thank you so much for the reviews last chapter (which, I have yet to reply to, btw)! It really makes me smile when Uni stuff gets to me! _

_AAAAANYWAY, on with the chapter!_

**_Hope you guys like this one! IMHO, House is a bit OOC, but not entirely in terms of how I molded his relationship with Rach in this story... I'll let you guys be the judge! ENJOY!_**

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><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<br>_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XI<em>**

.

"We der yet?" Rachel asked for the umpteenth time.

"Have I stopped driving the car?"

"Nooo…"

"Then it means we're not there yet, Rachel."

A sigh.

House smirked.

They had stopped by a McDonald's along the way and ate dinner. He would have made something from scratch for her at his apartment, but he wasn't kidding when he had told Arlene that he was tired. The only thing he was willing to make for her was the promised popcorn—and orange juice she would undoubtedly ask for when she got thirsty.

When they reached yet another stoplight, he retrieved his PSP from his backpack and put on a game he'd had installed before for Rachel's entertainment. It was kid-friendly and, to his annoyance and Cuddy's pleasure, educational.

He and Rachel had mutually agreed that it was, in fact, boring, when Cuddy requested the particular game. That made Cuddy cross her arms defensively and glare at them—she still won, of course. So Rachel had been stuck multitasking. Playing and learning at the same time. The only good it had done House was that he got to have his PSP back sooner.

"But this is boring!" Rachel whined, but played the game anyway.

House glanced at her through his rear-view mirror and patiently said, "Almost there. Popcorn and cartoons await!"

That made Rachel smile. She nodded at him before focusing on the console and the game once more, knowing that soon enough, she wouldbe able to watch cartoons and eat popcorn with House. Just like before when House was almost always at home with Mommy and her.

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey, no running!" House told Rachel when the toddler ran towards his building's front door the moment he had set her on her feet on the pavement. Rachel turned and waited for him on the front step, swaying a little from side to side. They entered the building and House unlocked his front door, letting Rachel pad into his sanctuary before following after her.<p>

"Coat off," House instructed before she could walk to the couch. Rachel walked towards him and stopped a foot away. House helped her free her arms from the sleeves when they got stuck. After she launched herself onto his couch, he took off his own jacket and hung it on the coat rack along with Rachel's.

The little girl had already made herself comfortable on the couch, TV remote in her tiny hands. House watched as she pressed down on the power button then pressed two familiar numbers. He grinned a little. The kid had good taste, thanks to him.

"Hows! Monster Trucks!" Rachel exclaimed happily, turning to look at him with her lips formed in an "o."

"Gravedigger is gonna get so crushed!" House taunted her with a playful edge to his tone.

"No, he's not!" Rachel refuted indignantly, looking a bit like her mother.

"He so is!" House shouted as he moved towards the kitchen to make the promised popcorn and pull out the forbidden junk foods from a shelf.

As he waited for the seeds to start popping, he listened as Rachel chimed in with the audience, calling out for Gravedigger to crush his opponent.

His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the homey feel his surroundings had suddenly taken at the mere presence of the little girl who would have been his step-daughter if his intention of proposing to Cuddy hadn't been crushed when Cuddy broke things off.

The man who despised and ridiculed domesticity felt like a hypocrite for liking and welcoming Rachel on the couch, watching her enjoy herself in his company. As he watched, he couldn't help but wonder whether this was how things would have gone if his relationship with Cuddy hadn't fallen out, with the addition of Cuddy sitting on the couch with Rachel, sharing her popcorn, or his.

Should he have asked her to stay that night? Should he have tried harder to keep her with him? He had only let her go because it was what she wanted. Letting her free herself from him was the most unselfish thing he'd done recently. If she hadn't let go on her own, he wouldn't have been able to do it for her. He only wanted her happy.

He had told himself that he was better off alone. He used to be… until he loved her. Being with her, he'd been the happiest he could be, maybe even more. He'd been the happiest he could remember.

Had he really done his best in being what she needed? Everything he'd done didn't seem to be enough for her. Maybe he'd done his best but still failed at one vital thing. He still couldn't face opening himself to her personal demons. He couldn't allow himself to be entirely open to her fears and pain so he could swim with her to safety, or at least help her through. He'd been weak. A coward, just like his father used to say, decades ago.

House shook his head and finished up with the popcorn. He flavored and segregated it into two buckets, one for him and another for his little guest.

"Hey Rachel, want to watch another funny show?" House asked as he settled the bucket of popcorn in between her legs. Rachel instantly held onto it so it wouldn't fall. She picked a piece and stuffed it into her mouth, nodding at him.

Taking the remote control from beside her, House changed the channel. He probably would have changed the channel anyway had she shook her head in disagreement. He smirked, suddenly confused as to why he even asked her in the first place.

Rachel giggled the moment she saw a pirate with one good leg and a pointy one. It looked like House with his cane as his other leg. "He looks funny," Rachel commented with a giggle.

"He's a pirate, he's supposed to be scary," House smirked again, eyes glued to the screen as he ate his popcorn.

"No he's not," Rachel shook her head, giggling as the pirate hit the brown-haired womanwith his pointy sword.

"That's because it's a cartoon," House argued; lolling his head to look at her with his 'duh' face, jaw slacking a bit.

They watched for a while, focused on the cartoon. A while later Rachel asked him, "Why he has one leg?"

"Why do you have two?"

Rachel tilted her head to the side, the right corner of her mouth tugged up, waiting for his answer.

"He has two legs. The other one's made of wood," he could only hope she understood him. He was not going to explain in 'baby talk' like Wilson.

"Like your cane!" Rachel exclaimed when a brown dog suddenly scampered on the deck, landed on the captain's feet and started chewing on the wooden leg. Rachel burst out laughing as the captain tried shaking off the dog to keep it from chewing his wooden leg off.

House rolled his eyes before turning his head to watch the cartoon again. Unaware of it, the left corner of his mouth tugged the slightest bit.

* * *

><p>Cuddy sat curled up on her couch, a mug of tea nestled in between her palms. She thought of what House and Rachel could be up to at his place. She wondered whether House was already pulling his hair out, chasing around after an active three year old.<p>

A smile tore past her lips at the thought of that. She loved seeing those two together. Now, more than ever.

To have seen them slowly grow close, Cuddy couldn't help but remember how lucky she had felt. She knew they had been an unconventional 'family', but a family nonetheless. _Her _family.

She hated how it felt like they were "playing house" at the moment, but she knew it was one of the consequences her and House's stupidity had brought about. If she were being honest to herself, she'd admit that she wanted him back. But she couldn't have him back, at least not yet. They were still treading on eggshells around each other. She'd been lucky his defenses weren't on red alert earlier that night, thus allowing himself to press his lips against her cheek for Rachel's benefit. Truthfully though, she wished that he did it not for Rachel's benefit but for his own. He used to always want to kiss her. And kiss her all the time, he did— well, he used to.

She had been surprised when he suggested he take Rachel for the weekend. She'd felt guilty sending Rachel to her mother for the weekend because of the bug she'd caught in the clinic. She'd rather keep Rachel at a distance so she didn't catch it.

She'd been thinking, the past few days. Thinking of how she could make things right between them. Wondering if, given time and with Wilson's words ringing through her mind, House would allow her to love and be with him again—if he'd forgive her wholeheartedly.

She wondered whether he'd be able to trust her with his heart again.

She had come to terms with her own shortcomings during the previous week. As stubborn as she was to admit it to herself last week, she'd been able to accept and fully realize that her standards were, in fact, unreachable. Her mother was right, Wilson was right. She'd been too busy trying to control things, make them perfect, to see what she'd been missing. She'd been too busy controlling everything.

House knew her standards, but for once, he didn't tell her what her mother and Wilson had told her. He'd bent over backwards to be the man she wanted him to be.

She'd been too obsessed in trying to mold him into the perfect man, forgetting that he'd been perfect and incredible for her already. She'd forgotten the things she'd told him.

_I don't want you to change._

_I know you're screwed up. I know you are always going to be screwed up. But you're the most incredible man I have ever known. You will always be the most incredible man I have ever known._

_I like being with you. You make me better. Hopefully I make you better._

_Common is boring. What we have is… uncommon. _

_And I've never been happier._

Along the way, it was exactly what she wanted him to do. Change. She'd been an idiot to tell him she didn't want him to. She withheld sex, broke up with him once, and refused to talk to him properly until he did what she wanted him to do and changed what she wanted him to change. After everything he did and didn't do to make himself better for her, to meet her ludicrous standards, she ended up breaking up with him anyway—the one thing he'd been doing his best to avoid.

She'd forgotten that she was just as screwed up as him. He had tried to do better whereas she only watched and waited for him to do what everybody else expected him to do: fail. He'd tried to do better; she didn't think she had to do anything. She once told him to talk to her if he had problems with their relationship. He didn't have problems, but she did. She didn't talk to him though. She'd only given him the cold shoulder until he finally approached her and asked her about what was bothering her.

He was and always would be the most incredible man she's ever known.

She _loved _being with him. She loved how he was around Rachel; less guarded, a bit awkward (it amused her how gentle and patient he could be), a lot less the miserable man she once knew, but ultimately, still _House_. He had been genuinely happy (or close to being so) and content with them.

He'd been _happy_. The one thing she had strived for him to be many years ago.

He'd been content; she thought something still wasn't perfect or right.

In the end, she was the one who just… couldn't let things be nice. She hadn't been able to allow herself to be happy the way he was. So she did what she did best: try controlling everything she thought was amiss or not right.

He'd had his faults and flaws, she had her own share of them; but she was the one who lost faith in him, in _them._ She was the one who let go, thinking he couldn't do better, thinking he'd _always _choose himself over everyone else.

She'd forgotten that he'd already chosen _her _and Rachel.

Cuddy sighed when she got pulled out from her thoughts when warm liquid failed to touch her lips.

That night, she ended up working, finishing up reading through and signing multiple files and paperwork that were waiting to be studied and signed. A few hours later she was done with everything.

But she found herself unable to sleep.

Not because she didn't trust House to look after Rachel well—she knew he would.

She couldn't sleep because she wanted to be where her daughter was that night.

* * *

><p>"Hows?"<p>

House grunted, acknowledging he'd heard her.

"I'm thirsty."

"What do you want?" he gruffly asked her like he didn't already know her beverage of choice.

"Juice! Orange!"

"Coming right up," House said as he pushed himself up off the couch and into the kitchen. His hands itched to grab a can of beer for himself but he knew it'd be a bad idea. He ended up getting a glass of water for himself.

Five minutes later House returned from the kitchen and handed Rachel a sippy cup (one he found in Rachel's backpack) filled with orange juice.

"Thank you," she told him with a sweet smile, her grimy hands holding the bottle's handles firmly.

* * *

><p>"Rachel, don't—"<p>

House's next words were cut off by the sound of a crash as his DVDs and VCDs came hurtling down from where they were once neatly stacked on one small coffee table.

When they had finished with Brown Beard, he told her to pick a DVD from the stack. He knew there weren't much kid-friendly DVDs (his porn stash was always hidden somewhere away from her reach, thank God) in his stack, but he told her to pick one anyway. Unfortunately, she wasn't such a smart cookie in logic, yet. She had picked a DVD on the bottom of the stack and pulled at it so quickly the rest came crashing down.

He sighed before making his way towards Rachel.

"Hows…" she quietly murmured before showing him her finger. "Owie," she said, her eyes boring into his own cerulean ones. Her eyes begged him wordlessly to help, knowing he was the only she could trust since Momma was at home.

House picked her up off the floor and carried her into the kitchen. Cuddy was right about the lack of baby-proofing, he thought in slight annoyance at himself. Maybe he shouldn't have picked Rachel up from Arlene's. She wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway if he hadn't. Maybe he shouldn't have offered to look after her.

House washed Rachel's finger well with warm water before drying it off and looking for a band-aid. When he found one in his kit, he tore the wrapper off and placed the band-aid on Rachel's finger.

"There. All good," he told her, setting her on the floor. "Go wait for me on the couch."

"No kiss?" Rachel tried requesting, her finger raised for him to kiss.

House shook his head, smirking. "No, none."_You wish. _

Rachel pouted at him, not dejectedly, and walked towards the couch. She knew better than ask him for such niceties. But she never failed to ask him for some at times even if she knew he'd ignore the request anyway. She clambered up on it and waited for House.

House walked back into the living room and changed the channel into the educational shit Cuddy liked Rachel watching. "Stay here, okay? Don't touch anything." Rachel nodded, content in sitting on his couch and watching Playhouse Disney without House saying funny and mean things about her favorite characters.

House headed to his bathroom to run the water for Rachel's bath, annoying sounds coming from the television making the Grinch in him want to start pulling his hair out. Those cutesy, kiddie stuff made him feel like his IQ was receding the longer he was subjected to hearing , there was nothing he could do. Corrupting her with his evil cartoons was alright from time to time, but Cuddy would have his balls hanging on her rear-view mirror if Rachel caught up with a lot of the vulgar (at least for children her age) words in it.

As he waited for the water to reach half his tub's height, he prepared the stuff he'd need to wash Rachel. He smirked as he browsed through the stuff Cuddy had jam-packed orderly into her daughter's backpack. Rachel had enough clothes to last her about five days. Her toiletries were stuffed into one pouch; shampoo, bottled soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, baby powder and lotion, and a kiddy hand sanitizer. He smirked at the thought Cuddy probably remembered how his own toiletries smelled like—not that they smelled bad, just manly. The diapers and clips were in another pouch, including a packet of baby wipes. He stared at the bag for a while before an eyebrow arched and he checked out the bag's dimensions, wondering how the hell Cuddy was able to stuff everything in it.

He checked the tub again after having laid out everything he thought he'd need. He turned off the tap and tested the water, making sure it was warm.

He went back to the living room and watched Rachel for a while. She was leaning against the right side of his couch, her chin propped up by her right hand. A grin was plastered on her face as she continued to watch the cartoon, unmindful of his presence. He found it a calming thing, seeing her on his couch, content. It meant she felt safe around him. She felt his home was home, too. A small smile tugged at his lips. A second later it disappeared and he swallowed at the reminder that he shouldn't get used to was doing this for Cuddy; only because she was sick. And for Rachel; because he hated the thought of her feeling a bit neglected because Mommy won't be able to cuddle her and pay her as much attention. Not that she'd get cuddles from him, he thought.

"Time to wash up and get ready for bed," House suddenly spoke, making Rachel turn her head to the side to look at him.

"Now?"

House nodded, ignoring the pout that made Cuddy acquiesce (sometimes) to her demands. "Yes, now. It's late." _Your mother is going to kill me if I let you stay up so late. Not that you'd tell her_.

"Come on," he said, pointing towards his bathroom. "Water's going to get cold."

"Cold?"

"Yup."

"Nooooooo…" She didn't like cold water. Mommy knew that. Why didn't House?

"Why not?"

"Cold."

House groaned under his breath before carrying her tushy from the couch and into the bathroom with her squealing almost all the way there.

"Not cold," he told her after setting her down on the floor.

She still looked suspicious, eyeing the water.

"Come here," he beckoned her with a hand. She walked towards him, hesitantly. He took her hand gently and dipped it into the warm water in the tub.

"Cold?" he asked her, a smirk on his face.

Rachel shook her head, believing him now.

"C'mon, wash time."

Rachel loved baths. She always got to play with water.

House dressed her down and set aside her clothes. He helped her into the tub before he handed her the only toy animal he had. A small great white looked confused.

"Wha's this?" she asked him curiously.

"A shark."

"Wha's a shark?"

"A fish."

"No duckies?" she asked him, her eyes on his while her hand made the shark 'swim'.

House started washing her, smirking.

"Nope. The shark ate the duckies."

"Do sharks eat monkeys?"

"Yup."

"Wha'bout doggies?"

"Yup."

"Wha'bout—"

House groaned. Ever since he told her that sharks ate the ducks she was supposed to play with, she had been interested in knowing if sharks would eat this or eat that. He had expected her to ask him "Why?" instead of haranguing him with every animal she could think of that could possibly beat sharks in the food chain. He was starting to get tired of saying "Yup" over and over again. She was having fun though, unfortunately for him.

"Rachel, sharks eat _everything_," he told her in an exasperated voice. How do children her age stand talking for too long? He was getting old.

"Wha'bout Hows?"

"I eat everything, too," he smirked.

"You eat Momma?"

A grin couldn't help but place itself on House's lips. His eyes sparked a little.

"Oh yes," he told her obnoxiously. Rachel couldn't tell though. She always found his voice funny.

Rachel giggled before asking him,"Wha'bout me?"

"I eat little girls who don't go to bed on time," he smirked, making her bury herself under his covers. A second later she tried to sneak a peek from under the sheets, seeing if he was getting ready to eat her. He wasn't. She popped from under the covers and grinned widely at him. House wouldn't eat her. Maybe he wouldn't eat Momma too.

"Time for bed," House told her when a yawn tore past her lips. She rubbed at her eyes before plopping back down on his bed.

"Wha'bout pirates? Sharks eat 'em?" she asked, her eyes focused on him as her fingers gently fiddled with the blanket.

House rolled his eyes before shaking his head, giving her that last one.

"Pirates eat _them_," he told her, pulling the blanket up and tucking it around her securely. He wasn't hitting the sheets just yet. He had to clean up... and was tired, but he had to admit that having her around wasn't as bad as he thought. It was actually… somewhat amusing.

"Those bloody scallywags," Rachel grinned lopsidedly before closing her eyes, her grin waning as sleep claimed her.

* * *

><p>House sat in front of his piano, fingering the ivory keys lightly. He'd just finished a composition he knew by heart. A composition that, for some reason, he'd never allowed himself to play for the person it was made for.<p>

Lisa Cuddy'svery own serenade was unbeknownst to her.

House had planned on finally playing it for her the night of their anniversary, but months before that night came, they broke up.

He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to dance effortlessly across the keys, feathering along each one with utmost expertise and emotion. He was lost in his own world, his own time. A world he wished he hadn't messed up: a world and time _with her._

Caught in playing a tune he wished he had played for Cuddy when they were still together, House didn't notice the little person who had emerged from the hallway and made her way behind him, clad in pink pajamas.

House was jolted from his reverie when he felt tiny arms trying to wrap around his midsection from behind. He felt Rachel rub her cheek against his back, mewling softly before sighing.

"Hey." It was the only thing he could say to not break the encompassing peace and quiet that had taken up residence in his sanctuary the moment he put her to remained quiet, so House gently tugged at her left arm and pulled her closer. He picked her up with both arms and settled her on his lap.

He had expected her to start pawing and banging at the pristine ivory keys of his most prized possession, but she didn't. She just sat on his lap, shoulders slumped, and hands folded on her lap like a well-behaved little girl.

Normally, he would have told her to go to bed, to scram and leave him in peace. But having played a melody the little girl had partly inspired, he couldn't. Besides, Rachel wasn't bothering him at all. She was quiet, quiet _and_ sleepy. So, even if she hadn't bothered him and his thoughts, he let her stay.

House dropped his head to peer at her and saw that her eyes were trained sleepily on the keys and on his hands, which had resettled on them, ready to resume playing. He then understood her silence.

She was only waiting for him to play again.

Rachel listened as he let out a small sigh before he started enticing soft notes from the magical instrument. She leaned back against House, his belly a nice pillow. She sat still, knowing that she was sitting on his owie.

House's skillful fingers glided gracefully against the ivory keys once again, playing her a lullaby his own mother had played for him when he was a kid.

A moment later, he transcended into the composition he had written when the little girl on his lap had entered her mother's world like a dream come true. The composition he'd been playing before Rachel had made her presence known.

He glanced down at Rachel and the smallest yet truest of smiles touched his lips upon seeing her head lolling to the side. She was asleep again.

He finished off with the serenade before carrying her back to his bedroom, smirking when she almost instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face on her spot there. He laid her down on the bed, tucking two pillows on her right side to serve as barricades from a nosedive to the floor. He tucked her in securely for the second time that night before unconsciously brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, internally scoffing at the thought that he really was getting soft.

He settled on her left side, keeping his distance, afraid that he'd crush her in his sleep. After all, he had to return her to her mother in one piece. He left the lamp on her side on and turned off the one on his.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ _LOVED, LIKED, TOO FLUFFY, DISLIKED? _

**_Make me happy, please leave a review to lemme know your thoughts(positive/negative, as long as constructive)!_**

**_Thanks for the patience, you guys! :) Love y'all!_**


	13. XII

**DISCLAIMER: **SO not Shore.** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: First off, I am so terribly sorry for the long wait! As you all know, I've been INSANELY busy with Uni... Oh! And LMAO, I joined a pageant which took place last Saturday. :) Emerged 2nd runner up with Best In Talent and Ms. Popularity to boot :) xD _**

**_A gazillion thanks to Penelope Cartwright for beta-ing this chapter :)_**

_Thank you so much for reading! Also, thank you for adding me on your FAVES lists! :D Oh, and thank you SO SO SO MUCH for the reviews! You guys have no idea what they do to me and my heart :) _

**_Hope you like it! _**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XII<em>**

.

**_8:45 AM_**

"Wake up, you bloody scallywag!" Rachel Cuddy called to him as she shook his shoulder. House moaned then groaned before turning away from Little Shrieking Harpy. House begrudgingly faced her five minutes later, his hair a mess. He looked at Rachel and glared. Rachel was used to it—she grinned.

"What?"

"I'm hungry," she pouted, her eyes doing their best to persuade him to feed her.

House sighed and rubbed at his face.

"Go watch cartoons. I'll be right out," he told her, wanting to relieve himself first and wash his face.

"'Kay," Rachel was eager to follow. It seemed she was hungrier than he thought.

About five minutes later House exited his bathroom and went to look for the little tyke. Just as he expected, she was being an obedient little bugger, waiting for him on the couch and watching that idiotic yellow sponge he wanted to set on fire if it had been real.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked her, thinking that it'd be better to ask her what she was in the mood for that morning rather than make something he wasn't sure she'd like.

"Pancakes!" she chirped with a smile, swaying her head from side to side. That habit was another thing he had to get used to.

House nodded. "Stay there," he told her before turning on his back and heading to his kitchen.

As he gathered the things he would need, he was reminded of the last time he made pancakes for Rachel; the day after Cuddy first came to him with the kid, telling him that Rachel had stopped at nothing just to spend time with him like they did before.

He still couldn't believe how attached Rachel had become to him and the other way around.

He hung his head low, shaking his head.

* * *

><p><strong><em>9:30 AM<em>**

"How's everything going with Rachel?"

"We're good. She's about to give me a coronary," House said, snatching Rachel off the kitchen counter before she got to his batter. Again. She'd been prodding at it, enjoying how it took a while before the marks she'd made disappeared. And she had been sampling said batter as well, licking her finger every time she pulled it from the bowl.

A chuckle left Cuddy's lips.

"She can be a handful."

"More like two hands full," House told her as he carried a pouting Rachel to his living room, sat her on the couch and turned on the television for her. He walked back to the kitchen as he waited for Cuddy's reply.

"You wanted to look after her so that's what you get."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He gruffly replied.

"Wish you hadn't?"

"And miss all the fun we're having right now?"

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"Not right now, no."

"No…"

Silence.

"It's nice—having her over... Comic relief."

Cuddy shook her head, a small smile gracing her features. She's forgotten how he could always bring a smile to her face even with the simplest things.

"She wants to see you. Should I bring her?"

"If she wants to. Yes, of course."

"We'll be there by lunch."

"Okay."

They stayed silent for a second until Cuddy quietly spoke.

"House? Thank you… for stepping up. It means a lot to me," she said in a soft, genuinely grateful voice.

"I didn't do it for you," House was quick to defend.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Cuddy said. There was the slightest tone of cockiness in her voice that he hadn't heard for a while.

He smirked, telling her, "Narcissist. Not everything is about you."

"Hows! C'mon!"

"You better go to her. She might punish you for ignoring her."

House scoffed, making Cuddy roll her eyes on the other line. "What she going to do?"

"You wouldn't want to know," Cuddy muttered.

"Howssss!"

"I'm coming!"

"I'll see you two later. Bye, House."

"Bye, Cuddy."

"What are you howling for?" House asked with a smirk as he leant against the wall.

"Look!" Rachel looked at him, remote in between her small hands. Rachel grinned as she turned her head back towards the TV. Being with House was fun!

House grinned when he saw TNA Wrestling on his TV. A LOT better than SpongeBob Squarepants, he mused.

"Atta girl!"

Rachel stood and approached him, her hand raised up for him to give her a high five. House smirked as she gave him a rather hard high five. He could tell she was having a ton of fun; and she was only watching television. What would she do without him?

He shook his head yet again. He had to keep his mind off thoughts like those.

"Who do you think is going to win?" he asked her as he made his way back to the kitchen and she made her way back to the couch.

"That one!" Rachel said from the living room.

House sneaked a peek and smirked, yet again. "I think he's going to lose," House stated in a feigned frank voice. Rachel sneered at House (a sneer much like her mother's very own) before turning to look back at the TV.

House almost always went against her just for the hell of it.

He grinned when he saw her cheeks puff out.

House resumed his breakfast-making duty and indulged (and not to mention tolerated) Rachel's fondness for animal-shaped pancakes.

They ate breakfast in front of the television set with House not caring if his couch was going to get sticky from all the sticky syrups Rachel liked mixing together.

Cuddy was going to have a long day.

* * *

><p><strong><em>12:15 PM<em>**

"Mommy!" Rachel smiled brightly as she rushed towards her mother's waiting arms, hugging her tightly.

"Hi, honey," Cuddy greeted her daughter, pulling back from their embrace to kiss her forehead. She loved the pink blush that had bloomed in her daughter's cheeks.

She glanced at House, nodding and smiling at him before looking back at Rachel.

"Did you and House have fun?" she asked her daughter, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cherubic face.

"Yes!" Rachel grinned, looking back at House.

"That's good to hear," Cuddy said, smiling. She stood up and walked hand-in-hand with Rachel into their house.

As soon as they stepped inside of the house, Rachel pulled her hand from Cuddy's grasp and ran towards her room, giggling happily to herself. Cuddy smiled as she watched her daughter scampering towards her own room before turning to look at House.

He was standing on the doorstep, seemingly waiting for her permission for him to enter.

"Come in," she told him. "Have you had lunch?" she asked him.

"Stopped by McDonalds," he told her, a small grin almost tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Cuddy sneered at him. He knew very well how much she hated it when he allowed Rachel to eat such food.

"Anything for me?" she asked, somewhat coy.

House sighed exaggeratedly before handing her the Chinese takeout bag.

Cuddy smiled genuinely, thanking him and ushering him in.

She was thankful that she was able to stop herself from pecking him on the lips or cheek like she had always done when they were still together.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he made his way to her couch and seated himself there. Cuddy took the bag into the kitchen and told him she felt a lot better than the previous night.

"I'll go… play with Rachel," he told her, getting up from the couch and making his way to her daughter's room. Truthfully, he didn't trust himself around her these days. He just wanted to escape forcing a conversation between them.

"Okay," Cuddy nodded, knowing that he didn't want to have to deal with her. She sighed upon hearing Rachel's door open, although a small smile graced her lips when she heard Rachel's squeal of glee.

She ate her lunch, listening to the two interacting.

Trying to look on the bright side, she did her best to believe that it was going to be a good day.

After eating, she made her way to Rachel's room. The moment she opened the door, she smiled as she saw House quietly reading Rachel a book.

The duo looked at her as she entered before simultaneously lowering their eyes back to the book.

"Hi," she greeted them before situating herself on the couch. She watched them as they contentedly sat on the floor, legs outstretched as they read some Scholastic book she had forgotten Rachel had.

Her eyes moved from Rachel to House as they ignored her presence altogether.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, House stopped reading after noticing that the little person next to him had slipped into a dreamless sleep. Unconsciously, he ran a hand along her hair. Halfway down the length of her short hair, he stopped, reminding himself that that couldn't happen anymore—that he shouldn't allow himself to get closer more than he already had. He didn't dare look at Cuddy.

"Let me take her," the woman suddenly spoke, automatically making him look at her. Cuddy lifted Rachel off of the floor and laid her down in her crib. She placed a loving kiss on her daughter's forehead before turning on her heel to look at the man who had captured Rachel's heart. House had moved from the floor onto the couch, instinctively running his hand along his damaged thigh.

"You okay?" she asked him quietly.

House nodded, ever guarded whenever asked about his leg.

Cuddy sat on the other end of the couch. Her eyes were focused on Rachel, sleeping in her crib.

Mindlessly, she told him, "I was thinking of getting her a bed."

He didn't answer, just looked at Rachel as well.

"I was thinking of making her choose which one she wanted," she added with a small smile.

"What do you think?" she asked, looking at him.

House thought for a second before he nodded in approval. "Sounds good," he told her gruffly.

"I'm trying here, House," she told him quietly, meeting his eyes.

"Don't," he told her.

"Nothing you do would make things less complicated or awkward, Cuddy. We just won't be able to go back there. After everything, it won't be easy for us to get back to some semblance of normalcy—neither in nor outside of work. I'm just doing… this," he gestured to the three of them, "for her." He pointed towards Rachel.

Cuddy pursed her lips, frowning as she looked back at Rachel, sighing heavily.

"I know," she whispered in reply.

"I just… I don't know," she sighed again, trailing off.

"What now?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"We wait for Rachel to wake up, I guess," she mumbled, almost smirking as she tried her damnedest to diffuse the tension and awkwardness slowly enclosing them together.

"Need me to take her for another night?" he asked, offering to babysit again if she needed another night to rest.

Cuddy looked at him gratefully. "If it's alright," she told him.

"Okay then."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him.

* * *

><p>When Rachel had woken up earlier that afternoon, she requested House to take her to the park. Cuddy told them to go without her since she hadn't fully recuperated yet.<p>

When the pair got back, they usurped the couch and watched cartoons the entire day, much to Cuddy's dismay. House had tried to excuse himself, telling Cuddy he'd just come back for Rachel later that night, but the three year-old wouldn't let him out of her sight—at all—much to House's annoyance.

* * *

><p><strong><em>7 PM<em>**

After tomorrow, Cuddy would have to make excuses for House's constant absence from their home, again. She hated having to lie to her daughter like that, but there was nothing she could do about it. Rachel will ask and cry for him again, but she knew she just _couldn't _allow them to meet as often as Rachel would like.

It was painful to watch something you know couldn't last.

Seeing them so at ease, so comfortable, so secure with each other, House and Rachel, hurt Cuddy beyond comprehension.

What she was secretly looking at was what she chose to give up. What she willingly let go of in the belief that he couldn't be what she needed him to be. That he couldn't be there for her. How he had proven her so wrong the past few weeks.

She was torn between wanting to be with him again and finally putting an end to this tryst. It wasn't fair for any of them. Especially not for Rachel.

They couldn't go on playing this twisted game of _pretend-nothing-has-changed_.

* * *

><p><strong><em>9 PM<em>**

"Hows?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sleepy…" she yawned, burying her button nose into the crook of his neck, her right knuckle rubbing at her right eye as best as she could.

House was starting to carry her back to her bedroom, but Cuddy stood in front of him and spoke.

"I've got her," she said, taking Rachel from his arms. "It's okay, you can leave her with me. I'll call Marina in tomorrow."

House looked confused, but didn't say anything as he watched her take Rachel into the child's room.

"What did I do?" he asked her the moment she came back into the living room.

"Nothing! You didn't do anything," she answered him, her tone getting softer upon realizing how loud her voice had become.

He looked far from convinced and she couldn't meet those piercing blue eyes, at least not yet. "Nothing?"

She nodded.

"_Something_ obviously made you change your mind."

"I didn't change my mind," she defended. "I'm feeling better, that's all. You don't have to watch her anymore. I'm sorry for taking up your time."

"I'm not. What happened? What changed?"

Cuddy stood silent in front of him for a while. She looked into his eyes a while later and took a deep breath. She looked away, saying, "_I _can't keep doing this. I can't let Rachel get used to you being around again," she regretfully mumbled.

"We can't keep doing this," she breathed, looking into his eyes with a sadness unknowingly shining in them.

House's brows drew together in confusion. "What are we doing?"

"Playing house!" she suddenly hissed, mostly mad at herself for being so indecisive of what she did and didn't want. Her eyes softened as she continued. "Acting like this is normal," she gestured between them and Rachel the way he had earlier. "Acting like nothing's changed between us the past few months! Rachel will be the one who'll end up getting hurt with our lies."

"You were right," she sat down on the couch, covering her face with a palm before sliding it down to cup her cheek. Shaking her head she told him, "I shouldn't have brought her to see you. I should have—"

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the tears fall.

"We have to stop…" she brought her head up to look at him, her eyes beginning to succumb to the forthcoming gush of tears.

He should have tried harder to resist Rachel the night Cuddy brought her to his apartment.

"It hadn't been my choice. I wouldn't have..." House trailed off, his eyes leaving hers as he moved them down towards the floor. He'd have been selfish and not let her go. He'd have tried harder to be whom she needed. He would have done _something_.

But he would never force her to be with him if it wasn't what she wanted.

He had asked for another chance.

He had told her he could do better.

He had never asked her to stay, because then, all she wanted was to get away from his toxicity. From his instability. From his capacity to hurt her more than all the men she had been with put together and more.

He couldn't and wouldn't have stopped her from leaving him, because she had been right to do so.

She understood what he meant.

"I know," she whispered, guilt marring her features.

"You can go now."

House only nodded solemnly, turning to leave.

As he started walking away from her, she was reminded of something she'd been noticing for the past few days.

"You're not limping…" She trailed off. Only now could she open the conversation. She'd noticed his lack of a prominent unsteady gait again earlier that day, but she couldn't talk about it with Rachel around and all of them having a pleasant day.

"You're not wearing a bra—oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! Thought we were stating the obvious."

"House…"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing is always something."

Tentatively, she took a step closer to him.

"Talk to me," she whispered. He looked into her eyes and she recalled a time she'd told him the same thing, but let him go, not forcing him to open up to her entirely.

"There's nothing to talk about," House shrugged, turning to walk towards her front door and escape the conversation he did not want to have with anyone, especially her.

"What are you taking?" she asked, gripping his biceps with one hand.

"What makes you think I'm taking anything for it?" he asked her, looking from the hand on his arm to her eyes.

"Foreman said—"

"Of course, since Foreman said it, it—"

"If you're taking something that could compromise—"

"It's nothing! It's none of your business anymore!"

"If whatever you're taking results in me having to clean up whatever mess you make in the hosp—"

"You left me because of this," he gestured towards his damaged thigh, "remember?"

"Right now," he breathed, his eyes the iciest glare she had ever gotten from him, but within those icy depths she could still see the hurt and pain she caused him, "This is not about the hospital. It's about us, outside work."

They stared into each other eyes until Cuddy eventually broke it off, her head tilting to the side, her eyes trained on the floor of her hallway.

Quietly, after a moment, she whispered, "I still care… I'll always care."

"Foreman told you a week ago. You didn't care then, why do you care _now_? Not that it matters, why couldn't you have approached me earlier? Why ask _now_?"

"I didn't know how to confront you about it. I'm sorry."

They stayed silent for a while.

A moment later House chuckled humorlessly.

"That's new. You always seem to know how to confront me. You did it very quickly when you realized I took _one _fucking pill," he spat, his tone undecipherable.

Cuddy looked like she'd been punched in the stomach. Her brows furrowed and she took a deep before quietly telling him, "Don't you think I've struggled—"

"Don't you dare say you struggled! You didn't struggle. You _ran._ As fast as you could. You demanded me to change after saying you didn't want me to; to make myself better. I believed I could do better. In the end, you gave up on me and told me I can't," he cut her off haughtily; frustration, anger, disappointment, and hurt traversing his system.

He took a moment to catch his breath. Shaking his head, he whispered, "Don't say you struggled, because you didn't. Not really."

"Did you take those drugs while you were supposed to look after my daughter?" She had deflected, choosing to focus on his inadequacy and mistakes rather than her own. But the question still mattered. Though, as soon as the question left her, she regretted it almost immediately. Sadly, she didn't know exactly what to think of him these days.

A bitter laugh escaped House's lips. He can't believe she was even asking him that question.

"It's a legitimate question."

He turned to walk away, but she moved to stand in front of her door placing a hand on his arm, blocking his way effectively.

"I need an answer!" She exclaimed. She _needed _to know.

He abruptly pulled his arm from her grasp.

"You know the answer!" he snapped, his breathing ragged.

Their eyes met and she could have sworn she saw hurt flit through those captivating irises. He shook his head once again, utterly at a loss for words. She had always said that she trusted him with Rachel. But there she was, standing in front of him, asking him if he'd taken drugs while he was supposed to be looking after her. How could she not know that he at least knew when and where to draw the line?

"It's an experimental drug," House disclosed in a whisper, lowering his head but picking it up a second later, daring her to say something.

A second later, almost furiously, she snapped at him (more from concern) and the latter conversation was abandoned.

"An experimental drug, House?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "It's still being tested on _lab mice_. You can't possibly think it'd help you. Your leg is _not _the problem. It never has been."

Cuddy was more worried than annoyed at the fact that he chose to take the drug _knowing _it was still being tested on lab mice. When Foreman had come to her, suspicious of how House had been acting the past week, she'd been disappointed, hurt, and concerned all at the same time. She just knew that he had to be taking something. But she had had to distance herself from him. She couldn't allow herself to interfere with his decisions. She'd lost that right when she left him with a bottle of vicodin in his possession the night she broke up with him. But still, she had to make sure that he was not compromising his ability to cure his patients. That was her top priority: make sure her doctors were in their best condition to help their patients and make sure they were _always_ on the top of their game.

"It has _always _been the problem, and the drugs are working," House informed her.

"House, don't do this. It's stupid, you know that. You know better than that," Cuddy told him, her voice softening.

"Forgive me for finding something other than you to keep me going, Cuddy. At least this time, I've only got myself to disappoint," House said, his eyes piercing her very soul.

"House." Her eyes watched him sadly, longingly, guiltily.

"Mommy?" a small voice rang throughout the hallway, coming from the direction of Rachel's room.

House and Cuddy immediately turned their heads to look at the little figure hiding behind her bedroom door, teary-eyed and trembling slightly.

"Rachel?" Cuddy called out softly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. Did she…?

House looked at Rachel and something inside him broke when their eyes met and she recoiled from the door, hiding from him. Cuddy's eyes shot to him in fear and sadness. She brought a hand to grip his biceps tenderly.

"House… don't—she's just—"

"Go to your daughter, Cuddy," he whispered brokenly, pulling her hand from his arm as gently as he could. He lowered his head in shame, unable to meet Cuddy's eyes. He was tired of it all.

He walked away, gently moving her away from the door—his exit—with his head hung low as he headed for his car.

He didn't even glance over his shoulder to see if she was watching him.

After what just happened, after what Rachel had just witnessed, it was just right that everything ended then and there. Rachel seeing him shouting at her mother… it was for the best, he tried to assure himself. Maybe it would be the catalyst for Rachel to finally start forgetting him. But, then again, she'd end up forgetting him as the uncomforting son-of-a-bitch he was—the last thing he had wanted her to remember him as being.

He walked away.

Cuddy didn't have the right to tell him what to do or change anymore. She didn't have anything to hold against him. He could take and do whatever the hell he wanted and she won't have any say in his decisions.

Not anymore.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Loved, liked, hate me again? Please leave a review to let me know what you think and how you feel! _

**_OH! And next chapter is gonna have TEH LONG-awaited SMUT! :) I've got 2k words of it written already! :D_**

**_Who's excited? I know I am (I haven't written smut in quite a LONG while!)... _**


	14. XIII

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: 400 reviews! THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH! :D Love you all! :) _**

_This chapter is dedicated to my bestest online biatch, **oc7ober aka Zosia** :) Belated Happy Birthday, Love! :)_

_Many, many, many thanks, hugs and kisses to my beloved beta/friend/whiteboard **Penelope Cartwright**! Read "Calm Like You", people! Great read!_

**SMUT WARNING! Last part. **

**_Hope you like the smut! Mwahaha :D  
>Brace yourselves! <em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XIII<em>**

.

Cuddy watched helplessly as House left, leaving her bewildered at his reaction. He must know that Rachel was most probably surprised at the tone of voice they had used with each other. House wasn't the only one who had been shouting. Their voices must have rattled her daughter.

She shook herself from her frozen state and moved to lock and bolt the front door, knowing that there was no chance that House would come knocking on her door that night. As soon as she did, she made her way to Rachel's room, opening the door carefully. She frowned upon seeing her daughter lying on the couch, her face buried in the upholstery.

"Rachel," she softly called to her.

Rachel lifted her head from the seat and looked at her mother, confusion and sadness painted on her face.

"Hows gone?" she asked her mother sadly. Cuddy nodded, pursing her lips as she sat down on the couch and pulled Rachel into her arms.

"Why you shouting?" Rachel mumbled against Cuddy's chest, pulling away to look at her mother.

"House and I just had a little misunderstanding," Cuddy excused, running her fingers along Rachel's hair to try and soothe her daughter.

"Why you fight?" Rachel asked, sniffling. The little girl had heard them argue before (because they almost always did) but never shout at each other the way they had earlier.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, brushing away the tears that had fallen from Rachel's eyes. She wouldn't be able to explain anything to Rachel since her daughter couldn't even begin to comprehend how things worked between her and House, at least not at her age.

"Hows sad," she mumbled miserably, looking at her mother, remembering House's eyes as he looked at her mom. She hadn't meant to hide from him. She was just afraid of the tone of voice House and her mother had taken.

"Yes," Cuddy honestly told her daughter. Yes, House was sad— among many other things.

"We didn't mean to shout. I'm sorry we scared you," she apologized, running her right hand up and down Rachel's back.

"Is he going to be okay?" Rachel asked in a whisper, her voice a mixture of small, sweet and concern. She played with the edge of her mother's shirt as she awaited the woman's reply.

"Of course he's going to be okay," Cuddy assured her daughter. Sadly, Cuddy knew House was always okay even when he truly wasn't. Throughout the years, he had learned how to cope.

Cuddy sighed as Rachel settled back into her arms, wrapping her arms around her waist. Cuddy was thankful for the fact that there was no truth to House's unspoken dread of having scared Rachel. Thankfully, her daughter had only been surprised and troubled to wake up to them shouting at each other.

"Come on. Time for bed," Cuddy whispered with a soft smile.

"Is Hows going to go back?" Rachel asked as her mother settled her on her crib which was starting to be slightly small for her.

"Would you like him to be back?" Cuddy tenderly asked, tucking in her sweet daughter.

Rachel nodded, smiling.

"Yes. Hows my best friend."

* * *

><p>It was late at night, but Cuddy found it hard to sleep. She couldn't help but think about House's face and his reaction to Rachel recoiling from him earlier that night.<p>

Truthfully, it would be better if they had ended everything at that. But House didn't deserve that. _Rachel _didn't deserve that.

She knew House would think it was for the better—that it would be a catalyst for Rachel to finally get over and forget him. It wasn't fair for everyone involved though. After everything House had done for her and Rachel, he didn't deserve to think he was going to be remembered by Rachel as the temperamental jerk who was addicted to drugs and made a habit out of making her mother cry because he wasn't any of those things. Well, he was a jerk, but not in that sense.

As she gazed at the picture displayed on the Blackberry in her hand, she started deliberating whether or not to clear House of his obviously unspoken guilt of having frightened and intimidated Rachel. He deserved to know and not—like he always does—_deduce _why Rachel had reacted the way she did.

She had memorized every pixel of the picture she was staring at. The picture of Rachel and House asleep on his bedroom floor, Rachel settled on House's broad torso.

She sighed.

In her heart she knew House deserved to know the truth.

Now it was only a question of whether or not to approach him and let him know.

* * *

><p><strong><em>The next morning, Cuddy's office.<em>**

"You're going to have to put an end to this, Cuddy," Wilson warned her, hands on his hips. "Or fix it. I don't know. Just do _something_."

"It's taking a toll on him," he said. "And you," he added, pointing his index finger at her.

Wilson stared at her, frowning as he suspiciously studied her.

"There's a "but" floating in the air between us somewhere," he said.

Cuddy sighed, dropping her pen on her desk. She ran a hand through her hair before exasperatedly telling Wilson, "I know. And I did finally do something about it. Last night."Cuddy squeezed her eyes shut and opened them a second later.

"But… Rachel heard us arguing last night. She recoiled from him and House walked away."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wilson genuinely told her, frowning.

Wilson's brows drew together as he asked, "How's Rachel?"

"She was just shocked to wake up to us shouting and arguing," Cuddy told him, shrugging. "She asked me if House was going to be okay."

"God," Cuddy sighed before looking into Wilson's eyes. Her eyes gleamed with relief yet she seemed troubled still."House and I were concerned about her reaction, butafter I apologized, she asked me if _House _was going to be okay."

"Well, children _are _resilient," Wilson told her, a corner of his mouth quirking up and into a small, boyish grin.

"And your daughter loves House—God knows why," he told her, smirking.

"She really does, Wilson," Cuddy stated fondly.

"It's what's making everything so difficult," she stated, partly sad, partly troubled. "House is good—no, _great _with her, and I can't pry them apart just because he and I are no longer together. It's not fair to them. But the longer I keep them hanging out together, pretending like nothing's changed between our relationship… it's going to affect Rachel."

Cuddy's look was distant as she told Wilson about their situation, lost in thought. Her brows furrowed and she turned her head to him again.

"Last night," her eyes met his again, "I told him that we had to stop it. It's also taking a toll on me, seeing them so happy together and knowing it was my choice to separate them."

Wilson was quiet for a few seconds, mulling the situation over in his mind.

"Why can't you just give him another chance, Cuddy? Give _yourself_ another chance to be with him. Yes, it could end badly again, but don't you think he's worth the risk? That what you two had is worth fighting for?" Wilson's eyes were serious yet soft at the same time as he looked her in the eye, asking her to take a chance on House again, for them both. They were stubborn beings, those two.

"He won't be around if—"

"Listen to yourself," Wilson cut her off. "You're talking as if the past few weeks haven't happened."

Silence.

A thought came to Cuddy's mind and she couldn't help but ask, "Did he ever tell you why he took the Vicodin?"

Wilson's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Did he tell you why he had to resort to taking the Vicodin just to be able to get past seeing me in a hospital bed?"

"You've never asked him?"

"I assumed he didn't want to feel pain in seeing me in a hospital bed. I also assumed that he didn't want to open himself entirely to my fears and my pain. He told me it had been the only way I could have had him there. "

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he asked her softly.

"Because he already told me what he wanted me to know."

"Don't you think that he hid what he _really _felt? We both know House. He won't tell you everything if it makes him vulnerable. And around you, he's both ironically comfortable and uncomfortable with being vulnerable."

They stayed quiet, both lost in their own thoughts until Wilson sighed heavily.

"I'll look after Rachel tonight—"

"What—"

"Talk to him, Cuddy."

Cuddy lifted her head from the floor and watched him as he swallowed and took a step closer to her desk.

He waited until he had her undivided attention before seriously telling her, "Fix or end this once and for all so the two of you could move on. But be sure it's what you want, because I won't let you hurt him again after this."

Cuddy wanted to protest, but something swirling within Wilson's brown eyes made her bite her lip.

Nonetheless, she tried one last time to talk him out of making her do this.

"Wilson, I—"

He cut her off again.

"He's my best friend, Cuddy. I don't like seeing him repeatedly hurt."

Wilson caught her eyes again. A while later, he sighed and lowered his head.

"I don't mean that I don't… I care about your happiness, too, Cuddy. I really do. You're also my friend. "

Cuddy gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you do the right thing," Wilson told her, bidding her good luck.

As an afterthought, he added, "He'd tell you the truth—what he really felt then, if he knew it truly mattered to you to know."

Cuddy nodded, watching as Wilson made his way to her office door.

"I hope he does," she told him, hoping that he really would.

Wilson gave her a comforting smile, wishing her good luck again before exiting her office.

House didn't come to work that day, choosing to diagnose his new patient from afar and effectively avoiding Cuddy. Unfortunately around four in the afternoon, House's patient died from a multitude of infections that had invaded his system.

After signing off of work, Cuddy drove to House's apartment, wanting to reassure the man and let him know that her daughter wasn't afraid of him. She didn't know why she was so determined to let him know about it, but she knew he _had _to know. She had seen the look of hurt and shame in his eyes upon seeing Rachel recoil from him. He hadn't wanted to frighten her daughter.

Also… she wanted to finally ask him herself about _that night_. The night he had chosen to give up his sobriety just to be beside her, holding her hand.

She spoke immediately when his front door opened to her. "I'm sorry about your patient," she said.

"Why are you apologizing? Did you kill him?" his sarcasm was thick.

A pause. She couldn't let him intimidate her to make her leave. In the next few minutes or hours she had, she was going to have to come up with a decision; end their personal relationship once and for all or try and get back together with him.

"We're not together, yet you still make me a crappy doctor." He mumbled disgustedly, glaring at the wall behind her.

She would have scoffed if hadn't she felt the tiniest bit guilty.

"You're really blaming me for that?" she asked wearily, internally incredulous.

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked him dryly.

"Because you just won't leave me the hell alone!" he hissed.

"It's unfair, Cuddy," he added quietly. She had nothing to say to that.

"What did you really come here for?" he barked gruffly, trying in vain to stare her down.

"Last night… You didn't frighten Rachel. She was—"

"I don't care," he cut her off stiffly, starting to shut the door in her face, but she was quick to stop him from doing so.

"You _do_. She was just surprised to wake up hearing us fight."

"I don't—"

"Shut up." She commanded.

He stared at her.

"She asked me if you were going to be okay. Does that sound like she's frightened of you?" her voice was strong, determined to let him know what was fact and not his convoluted, false version he chose to make himself believe.

The relief that had escaped his eyes wasn't lost to her no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"You came here just to tell me that?" he chose to ask, acting unaffected.

"No," she stated simply, her voice dropping an octave.

"Then why—"

"Why did you take that pill?" she blurted out.

He seemed to be taken aback by the question.

"I know you were afraid of losing me. Had it really been the only way I could have had you there? Was it really just_one _pill?"

House's walls quickly enclosed around him, resisting her ability to make him vulnerable and admit to the real reason he took that pill.

Defensively, he retorted, "Why are you asking now? You already—"

"I want to know! Why?" her eyes blazed, resisting his resistance.

They were stubborn people, the two of them. One of them would have to back down eventually.

Being so tired from the redundancy of their conversations-slash-arguments that had been plaguing them for the past few days, House was the first to back down.

"Does it matter?" he asked her wearily.

"Right now it does," she told him softly, allowing her own walls to fall for him. He deserved it at that moment.

"Tell me," her eyes and her tone beseeched him.

His eyes were more doubtful than ever. "Why?"

"Because I want to _understand_," she desperately told him, her eyes still beseeching.

"Would it change anything if you did?" he quietly asked her, trying his best not to let even a sliver of hope blind him into letting her in again only for her to let go.

She took a step closer to him, her palm resting on his chest on top of his heart. Calmly, licking her lips once, she looked up at him and answered, "Right now, yes. It could."

House lowered his head, tilting it to the left. Did she mean what she said? How does he redeem himself in front of her? He had told her the truth before. She _knew _the truth. But it was only a few moments ago when she finally asked to know what he really felt and why he felt that taking the Vicodin was the only solution to his problem.

Could he make himself vulnerable to her now?

Could he trust her, right now, at that moment?

How could things change?

She seemed to know what she really wanted, based on the events of the past few weeks. Could anything he say change her mind at all?

He thought of those questions for a few moments, unsure as to what was the best thing for him to do. But as he studied her and those sapphire eyes, he concluded that she deserved more than her own conclusion of why he had done what he did. She deserved to know the truth straight from his heart and mouth.

"I don't… _love_ a lot of things in my life. The ones that I do, I'm afraid of losing. I've never lost anyone I loved before, except Stacy. You saw how I was after her."

He paused, looking into her eyes as he picked his gaze up from the space between them.

"But you… Losing you… Knowing that there was a chance I could lose you just like that… I wouldn't have pulled through that. Seeing _you_ in that hospital bed, it… scared me more than anything ever had. Not being with you, losing you… The _thought alone_… I—"

He cut himself off, lowering his head.

Tears started cascading down Cuddy's face. She took a step closer, shutting the door to his apartment behind her and cupped his cheek with a hand. She beckoned his face towards her own, their eyes meeting.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" she whispered in question.

"I did," he murmured, "You didn't hear me." If she didn't doubt his love and his honesty, she would have heard the words he didn't have to say for her to know.

"I was hurt," she told him, "I believed you'd pull through for me. And you did, but in a way I didn't want you to."

His head turned to the side, but she realigned his head to hers, not allowing his eyes to stray as she told him, "I didn't want you risking your sobriety for me! You didn't have to—"

"I know. But it was the only way, then, that I could have stood by you. I'm _sorry_," he whispered miserably, his eyes conveying more than his words ever could.

"_I'm_ sorry," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his and closing her eyes.

As he watched her emotions get the better of her, his right hand traitorously snaked between them to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear that was about to fall. He gave up trying to restrain himself from pressing his lips to hers the moment she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

He watched, transfixed at her ethereal visage, with eyes filled with a cacophony of emotions as his lips descended upon hers. He had missed her lips; soft, supple, and seemingly formed to fit his very own like matched puzzle pieces.

The slightest graze of her lips against his felt like the sweetest taste of nectar. The moment his lips encased hers, he felt his walls fall and crumble at their feet once more.

Nothing else mattered. Not at that moment at least.

He could feel her trembling as she fought off a waterfall of tears threatening to spill; he held her tighter, pulling her gently against the solid planes of his chest and torso.

The moment he held her in tighter, she felt safe—like she always had in his arms. Her arms engulfed the expanse of his back and she stood on her toes, hands sliding up his shoulders, higher.

She had missed this, him. And he had missed her. They knew things could take a drastic turn for the worse the morning after, but at that moment, they were willing to trade it for a night of feeling the way they'd felt when they'd been together. Recreating the passion, love, and fire between them; they wanted nothing more than that.

They would worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. All that mattered at that moment was the night ahead of them.

Everything they could see and breathe was each other. Nothing had felt so right.

Her mouth succumbed to the tenderness his had showered on hers and she opened it to welcome his tongue. Their lips slid against one another, dancing together, remembering and recalling how it used to feel. It was a welcome sensation when they felt that nothing had changed; their mouths on each other still felt wonderfully the same.

Touch by touch the fire threatened to engulf them in an overwhelming intensity. It was insane, what they were doing at that moment, they knew. But they were too lost in one another to think rationally.

Tomorrow didn't matter, not at that moment, not at all.

The consequences of sharing his bed tonight would later inhabit her mind, but for now, she gave herself to him the way she had done so before they started breaking each others' hearts. Tonight, she'd allow him the opportunity to break her already shattered heart by once again exposing herself to what they still could have had, had she not ended the beautifully and complicatedly uncommon thing they had created together.

The softest of sighs escaped his lips as hers tenderly enveloped his bottom lip and bit down softly.

This was how it used to be between them, Cuddy thought longingly. It was how she wanted things to continue being. She wanted to be consumed by him; she wanted to be his again. But her fear of getting hurt by him again was preventing her from rekindling a relationship with him.

She was carried away from her thoughts when House lifted her off her feet, reminding her of the night she'd come to him, saving him from himself yet again, telling him that she loved him and that she couldn't help herself from doing so. It reminded him of that first time as well, but he carried her to his bed all the same.

No questions were asked, no words uttered. All that was to be heard was the sound of their breathing slowly accelerating in tune with their mounting desire and need for one another.

Slowly, delicately, he unbuttoned her blouse and lowered his mouth to meet her neck, kissing her on the spot he knew so well and breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her mouth fell open from the feeling of his lips upon her bare skin again, reveling in his ministrations. She moaned as his tongue traced a path from her neck to the back of her ear.

Her fingers slipped from his arms to run across his hair—another thing she had missed doing. Her fingers scraped his scalp as lightly and sensually as they could, feeling him shudder as he lavished the area from her neck to the back of her ear with attention.

He knew that he should put an end to what they were starting. It would be the right thing to do. She would leave in the morning, a part of him feared—she wouldn't, the other part assured.

Selfishly, he wanted to make love to her if only for the last time—show her just how much he loved her still. He wanted to have the memory of this final night to remind himself that he did try to be better for her. That he loved her the only way he knew how, flawed as it may have been.

As he placed his lips upon hers once again, he tried his best not to hope that she'd stay with him until he woke up. He didn't trust her to change her mind over this.

"House," she sighed into his mouth, her voice barely audible against his lips, pulling him from his thoughts. She had missed this, too, whispering his name intimately.

Her mind was swirling with so many feelings; she couldn't do anything but shove everything else back, choosing to relive the fire they had always had for each other.

Their eyes met and she couldn't breathe, lost in his cerulean seas. She pecked his lips once, twice. A smile emanating from his lips nearly drove her to tears she knew to be due to happiness.

How could she have chosen to escape the security of his arms? Why had she chosen to leave him, give up on him, and be without him?

The reasons why were lost to her as she drowned herself in the sea of emotions showing in his eyes.

His hand cupped her cheek, stroking her jaw line and cheek with his thumb. The affection he was bathing her in made her close her eyes.

"I love you," he told her in an amorous whisper, leaning his forehead against hers before placing the most loving of kisses on the corner of her mouth. She sighed, contented to just lie beneath him. One hand cradled his neck gently, fingers framing his jaw while the other gripped his shoulder.

"I love you," she freely told him, reminding herself that _this_ was the reason why she wanted to start over with him again.

"I love you," he repeated, lips now enveloping her own, kissing her softly, lazily, lovingly.

She would have smiled had she known what her true decision would be.

She chose to forget about tomorrow yet again by claiming his lips and thrusting her tongue into his waiting mouth, moaning softly as he reciprocated just as eagerly.

Deftly, her fingers slowly slid his shirt up his body before pulling it off, breaking their kiss for a few seconds. She let the shirt drop to the floor before running her hands up and down his chest, sighing in desire against his lips when they started kissing again.

He helped her remove her shirt and he met her eyes before leaning down to run his stubble along the creamy tops of her breasts. Her breath hitched when she felt his lips come in contact with her skin, kissing the exposed part of her right breast, his tongue teasingly gliding in accordance with his mouth. He reached behind her to unhook her bra, but he found nothing to undo.

"Let me," she whispered, her hands meeting in between her bust to unclasp the bra she was wearing.

He watched in awe as her breasts spilled into his waiting hands, his need and desire to make love to her again making his breathing more labored. Gently, he massaged her breasts with his hands, flicking at her nipples.

She snaked a hand up his arm and onto the back of his head, pulling him down to her breast, wordlessly telling him what she wanted him to do next. He willingly obliged, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling her breast and nibbling at her bud in agonizingly slow strokes. He alternated between her breasts, seemingly not able to get enough after such long separation.

Finally feeling that he had lavished her breasts with enough attention, he moved up her body and claimed her lips again. He watched her eyes flutter closed as their lips meshed, and slowly, he closed his eyes as well, losing himself in the reunion of their lips.

There was a moment when all House did was bury his face in the crook of her neck, his ear flattened against her shoulder. He listened to her heart beating and wasn't surprised when his drummed along in sync. He could feel her fingers carding through his hair, allowing him to take his time in trying to process what they were about to go through, because she was, just like him, doing the same.

It took them a long while until they were finally skin on skin, their clothes discarded on the floor.

There were no reassurances about what would happen tomorrow morning upon opening their eyes to a new day, but as they lay in each other's arms, nothing else really mattered.

Slowly, he started kissing his way back to her lips, nipping intimately at her skin until his mouth met her lips again.

He felt her gasp into his mouth as his left hand leisurely moved between them, reaching well below her navel. Her mouth fell open as he parted her with his fingers, feeling the warmth and wetness coating her core. She whispered his name breathlessly as he slid a lean digit inside her, pushing in and withdrawing as painstakingly slow as he could, driving her to the brink of insanity. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her while he kissed her lips and looked into her eyes.

Her back arched and she wrapped her arms around himas he sheathed himself inside her warmth. Her breath hitched as he thrust gently into her to occupy the space within her. She buried her face in his neck, nipping at his skin and soothing her nips with kisses and licks, lost in pleasure.

"Cuddy." He breathed into her ear, nuzzling her cheek.

She released a breath, almost smiling as her hips met his forward thrust.

"House," she quietly sighed, biting her lower lip.

House lathered her with openmouthed kisses up and down her neck, his breath becoming more labored as her core enveloped him tightly. She was clenching at him involuntarily, adding to his arousal and need.

Her hand slid from his neck to cup the back of his neck, gasping breathlessly as he came in contact with that spot within her that brought her to euphoric bliss every time. Her eyes burned with the memory of them in their most intimate of moments—just like this. His tenderness, his attentiveness… his love.

She arched into his torso, arms cinching up and around the expanse of his back. Her lips pressed against his shoulder, breathing in everything that was him.

Every act, every single move, he calculated. He wanted it to last—hopeful as he may finally have allowed himself to be, he was still afraid she'd arrive to the decision to leave him in the morning. Every second he spent making love to her was savored and stored into his memory. For if this was the last time, then at least he'd remember putting her first. "Choosing to make her happy now than have her up and leave in the morning, fear and doubt niggling in the back of his head as he thought of the probability of her leaving him no matter what he did."

He kissed the shell of her ear, breathing hard against her head as he rigorously pursued leading her into that nirvana they had once always sought and reached, together. That fulfilling, pleasurable area in time and space where time itself stood still and nothing, _nothing_ else mattered.

She fell back onto the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, as he slowed down the undulating of his powerfully built hips… only to pick up where he'd just left off. Again, moving… very swiftly on—well, in and out.

She followed suit, meeting him with every single move he made. Her pelvis arched sinuously into his as he rolled his hips against her, her nails slowly starting to trail down his back, leaving in their wake red marks—the marks of pleasure he had elicited from her. She arched her head and his mouth dove into the hollow of her throat, kissing her there before trailing his mouth up her throat. She swallowed hard, breathed out a sigh, then moaned as he enveloped her chin with his mouth and trailed it upwards once again to claim her lips. She sighed into his mouth, eyes shut.

At the feel of her becoming tighter, gripping at him more urgently and maddeningly scalding, he quickened his pace. He was also nearing the edge, but he wanted her to reach it first.

"Look at me," he whispered, cupping her cheek with a trembling hand. The darkness of his bedroom made it impossible to see, but her eyes opened nonetheless. She couldn't see him, but she could see his heart so visibly. Her heart ached at just how much he loved her still.

Cuddy panted as her body quaked in tune with the orgasm slowly tearing its way in, through, and out of her, driving her mad with pleasure. She met his thrusts and gripped him tighter as she felt his body start to tremble as well.

He buried his face into the space where her neck and shoulder met, panting breathlessly as he waited for her to fall into that elating space he longed to bring her home to, if only for the last time. His hips rolled, one deep and final fluid forward motion, and she was driven to a powerful orgasm.

She clutched him to her chest, mouth wide open and her breath taken from her, gasping and panting as his thrusts continued coming like the un-calming waves of an ocean, prolonging her pleasure. A few seconds later, still basking in the euphoria of her orgasm, she angled her hips and started meeting his quickening pace.

He was so close, she could feel it. She gripped him, lathering his neck with kisses as she moaned at the feeling of another wave of orgasm slowly building and rising from within her. The angle she had taken would be their undoing.

His fingers caressed her thigh, molding his palm against her curves. He panted, so very near that edge she had fallen off earlier. He snaked his hand between their scalding and sweating bodies and sought out her slit, his fingers rubbing her _there_. Slowly, making her moan. Then quicker and quicker, taking her breath away and making her cry out as she reached orgasm yet again, her walls clamping down on him deliciously merciless yet again.

The feel of her hot velvet walls surrounding him, gripping at him as she convulsed, brought him to orgasm. He came, still surging in and out of her as he exploded into her core, saturating her.

The rolling of his hips eventually came to a halt and he sagged carefully on top of her, his cheek pressed against the planes of her shoulder. He tilted his head up a bit and pressed his lips against her jaw, breathing in the addicting scent of her and them, together.

She moaned softly and shuddered as he slipped out of her, leaving a thick trail of his desire to dry against her thigh.

"Stay," he whispered, sliding onto the bed beside her. He ran his hand from between her legs, up her torso. He cupped her cheek and laid the softest of kisses upon her parted lips.

She ran her fingers through his damp hair as she molded herself into his side, head upon his chest.

"Stay," he repeated in a soft, whispered request, wrapping an arm around her.

She did.

But only to leave again in the morning as he slept confidently knowing she would be beside him when he woke up.

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><p><strong><em>AN: Loved, liked, hated me yet again for that last line? Do let me know what you think about the smut and the chapter as a whole. :) _**

**_Thank you for taking the time to leave reviews. Thank you so much for reading! :D_**


	15. XIV

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Hey, you guys! :) Thank you so much for the patience! :D  
>Special thanks to my dearest beta and whiteboard, Penny :) Luv ya! :D<em>**

**_Thank you so much for reading and leaving reviews, you guys! Don't worry, we're nearing the chapter where they FINALLY get back together. :) I did say I'm a sucker for happy endings, didn't I? :) Trust me._**

_BS15 is already with Penny, so I'll be posting that when she sends it to me and after I finish my final read-through. She's a very busy gal and I'm very thankful she gets to sneak in some betaing despite her schedule, so I hope you guys understand! :) I'll continue Absence when I finish Broken Strings. :) I aim to complete this story by the first week of December or the last week of November. :) _

_I apologize for this being so short, but the ending felt just right. :) _

_***Oh and yes, this is short. I am beating myself up for this chapter not being more than 3,000 words...***_

**_Hope you like this one though! Leave a rev, if you please :) _**

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><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

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><p><strong><em>XIV<em>**

.

The cold morning wind blew past her, skimming her face and messing her hair as she drove home with her window rolled down, feeling emptier than when she had been lying beside him and the warmth that had emanated from him, thinking of leaving him.

Her mind allowed nothing but thoughts of him to occupy it, relentless in reprimanding her about what she had ultimately decided on doing.

She'd left him.

Her heart thudded against its cavity, her breathing heavy as she tried her best not to think of any of it.

She was done feeling weak—she wasn't weak. Only House could make her feel weak. She was tired of that emotion, that feeling, pervading her empty mornings and cold nights.

The reason she had wanted to stay was what also made her decide to leave.

She knew that what she had done was to be the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

She knew that from that moment on, there truly was no going back.

A tear pushed past her defenses at the thought of losing one of the few things that had been a constant in her life for more than a decade.

A tear caused by the knowledge that she had a chance to fix things between them by returning to him but chose to sever whatever they had because it was easier.

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><p>Wilson. She knew that what was about to happen had no chance of being pleasant at all.<p>

She stepped out of her car and made her way, unhurriedly, to her front door. She unlocked the front door and entered her home. She took off her shoes and she walked into the living room to find Wilson reading one of her medical journals.

"Hey," Wilson greeted upon seeing her.

"Hi," Cuddy greeted in reply, returning his smile. Her lips thinned a moment later though, not knowing how to tell Wilson why she was already home.

"How'd things with House go?" he asked her as he sat the journal down on her coffee table.

"It was fine," Cuddy told him simply, moving to sit on the other lounge chair.

Wilson's eyes narrowed in suspicion and his jaw set slightly as he took a deep breath.

"I don't think it was…" he said.

Cuddy frowned before telling him what she'd done.

"I… left. We talked, and then I left," she stated, not quite prepared to tell him she also had sex with House before she left. She knew Wilson was smart enough to figure that out, but she was only buying even a minute of time until she was slapped in the face with her cruelty once again.

"I'm assuming you did a lot more than just talk seeing as you're standing in front of me at 3 in the morning," Wilson reasoned, his hand propping itself on his hip.

Cuddy sighed tiredly.

"We talked. Then we… had sex. I couldn't stay."

"Why couldn't you? You knew I had Rachel covered." Wilson knew the reason, but he just wanted to be sure. And he wanted to try and enlighten Cuddy about what she had just decided on doing.

"It's not the right thing to do. It's certainly isn't the best thing to do. House is… too much for me," she concluded with a weak shrug. She was so tired of having this discussion over and over again.

"You're giving up on him."

"I _have_ given up on him."

"You're a bitch, Cuddy," Wilson told her flatly before allowing a mirthless and bitter chuckle tear past his lips.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," Cuddy replied, her eyes meeting Wilson's disappointed brown ones.

"You're choosing not to be with him because it's the easier decision to make."

"Yes," she confirmed instead of justifying her reasons to Wilson. She just wanted to kiss her sleeping daughter goodnight and go to bed.

"Goodbye, Cuddy," Wilson told her before exiting her home and making his way to his car. There was so much more that he wanted to say, but he chose not to speak his mind. He knew it would only be a lost cause because she had obviously made up her mind.

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><p><em><strong>10:15 AM, Cuddy's Office<strong>_

"You left this morning…"

Cuddy's head shot up when she heard his voice. She had been too engrossed in the proposal she'd been reading to notice that he had entered her office. Also, she had expected him to avoid her at all costs after last night.

The moment their eyes met, silence fell.

She took in his tense appearance, knowing that it was most probably caused by her disappearance from his side when he woke up that morning.

House swallowed before speaking and breaking the silence.

"Everything alright with Rachel?" he asked awkwardly.

He was giving her a chance, she just knew it. She saw the truth in his cerulean eyes. She wanted so much to make a reason for her early departure from his embrace, but she knew she shouldn't, because she had already decided. She hated herself for hurting him the way she has.

"Yes, Rachel's fine," she replied quietly, playing along.

"That's good," he murmured, suddenly unsure of what he was actually expecting to accomplish, standing in the middle of her office.

"Cuddy, I—"

She cut him off with utmost sincerity and guilt, telling him, "I'm sorry…"

They both knew what that apology meant.

House understood fully.

"Okay," he nodded once before turning and making his way back to his office.

* * *

><p>It has been two weeks since they've last spoken. Truth be told, she was glad—no, <em>relieved<em>. She was not glad, but relieved.

She missed his voice and presence, but the sad truth was, after that morning in her office, she knew that they were set back to their bumpy employer-employee relationship.

Ever since the day they spoke in her office, House had started sending his ducklings to get her consent on procedures and tests. Ever since, they had shared nothing but stolen sad, regretful and guilt-filled glances.

Wilson, among others, had witnessed theselooks and was unable to do anything about it. He was ignored every time he talked to House about it and he was dismissed every time he went to Cuddy.

He felt bad for them, yes, but they only had their fears and stubbornness to blame.

Truthfully, Wilson blamed himself as well. For not being there for House (telling him that he was on his own and that he wouldn't meddle) when Cuddy couldn't, and stop him from taking a vicodin to be able to stomach seeing his girlfriend who was confined to a hospital bed, possibly dying, and scheduled for surgery.

He watched, bearing witness to his closest friends' fallout, unable to help them.

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><p><em><strong>Three days later…<strong>_

Cuddy never said anything about it, neither to him nor to Wilson. From their stolen glances, she could see him limp more pronounced recently.

It always hurt, seeing him in pain.

Even when they were together, his pain was always present even if lessened.

She wanted nothing more than to ask him how she could help, but she knew what his answer (or answers) would be.

He was _fine_.

He didn't need any help.

He would always be in pain.

There was nothing anyone could do to help him.

That was House… bearing the pain by himself, pushing away everyone who cared. All the time.

She used to hate being useless when it came to his pain.

Until that one time he let her in and allowed her to help him…

"_Hey… what's wrong?" Cuddy had asked House who was groaning, eyes screwed shut. _

_She let her right hand roam his chest until his arm flew down to his thigh._

_She propped herself on her elbow and trailed her eyes to his pajama-clad thigh. Her eyes softened as she saw both his hands clutching at it. _

_She sat up and ran her fingers through his hair, trying her best to soothe him. _

"_Where's your Ibuprofen?" she asked him in a whisper. He only shook his head, making her frown. _

"_Won't work," he negated, shaking his head again as he repeated the words. _

"_What do you need?" she asked him urgently._

_He only continued to shake his head, his hands digging into the jagged plane that was once muscular. _

_She gripped both sides of his face, leaning forward to be closer to him. "Look at me," she whispered softly. Her hands steadied his head. Her lips pursed when he gritted his teeth. _

"_Get out," he reluctantlywhispered in gritted teeth, obviously not wanting her to see him in this level of pain. _

"_No." she firmly stated. _

"_Look at me. House, look. At. Me." She commanded sternly, and he obeyed, slowly opening his eyes._

_He feared the pity he might see radiating from within her stunning eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut again, but took a deep breath before reopening them, steeling himself for what he may or might not see. _

_Their eyes met and she laid the softest kiss upon his parted lips. _

_He was relieved to see no pity in her eyes._

"_I'm here… I'm here," she hushed in quiet tones, stroking face and wiping away the sweat. _

"_What do you need?" she asked him again, eyes on his vulnerable blues. _

_His eyes screwed shut and she was about to tell him to keep looking at her until she felt one of his hands take one of her own. His hand led hers to his thigh, wordlessly telling her what he needed. _

_She stroked his face and forehead once more before pulling away from him to kneel next to his legs. She searched his face for any indication that she was doing more bad than good as she started kneading his thigh with precision. _

_She was comforted by the lack of withheld pain leaving his lips as he sighed and groaned softly as she massaged his leg, assured that she was doing it right. _

_She kneaded his thigh until she felt him relax and fall back into a deep sleep. _

_She watched as his chest rose and fell steadily, a small smile touching her lips. He let her in. The soreness and pain she felt in her hands was more than worth it. _

_He used to push her away like he had tried to do earlier, but tonight he let her in._

_It was all that mattered. _

It felt great, knowing that he'd let her in, she recalled. Due to the recent circumstances though, she thought that maybe she'd lost that trust.

Cuddy was pulled from her reverie when her office phone rang. She sighed deeply before taking a deep breath and answering the phone.

As always, duty called.

As she spoke with the board member over the phone, she told herself that she'd keep an eye on House. Even from afar.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The next day…<strong>_

He knew it was beyond insane.

He knew it was most likely going to kill him, what he was about to do.

Nevertheless, he went through with it anyway.

He trusted no one but himself when it came to his leg.

He had trusted a woman once, and it led to him having to wake up every morning greeted by pain.

He lay in bed, sometimes, thinking of what would have happened had Stacy and Cuddy done things his way.

Would he have died? Survived with full use of his leg? Would they have ended up amputating anyway?

He sighed and continued cleaning his bathroom, sanitizing every nook and cranny of it.

No, he was not afraid of seeking another surgeon for his problem.

No, he was not afraid of losing his leg to his stupidity.

His eyes caught sight of the CT scan of his thigh where three tumors were visibly present.

No, he wasn't scared at all.

He was alarmed and afraid.


	16. XV

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. A great deal of this chapter came from season 7 of House's 22nd episode, After Hours. The plot of that epi's not mine, some of the lines seen aren't mine either. These lines are owned by the writer(s) who wrote the episode. (: Just borrowed. **

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><p><strong><em>AN: Penny loves you, guys! xD She finished betaing 15 and 16 a couple of hours ago! Go give her stories a read if you haven't yet :) So worth the time! _**

_This one is longer than 14, but almost 3k words! __By the way, where were the others last chapter? *pouts* Lol, just kidding! Hope you guys are still around! _

_Gimme lotsa love and I'll post BS16 tomorrow (Friday) night! xD_

_Nah, just kidding. Won't do that to you guys! I **will **be posting BS16 tomorrow night whether or not I receive lotsa love from you, my beloved readers. :) I've rarely updated the past few months because of Uni, so I want to make it up to you guys while I'm still on semestral break. :D BS 16 is 3k+ words and so is BS17!_

_This follows After Hours so not much original work, I only expanded the details a bit... Please bear with me :) _

**_I hope you like how detailed this is! :D_**

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><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

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><p><strong><em>XV<em>**

.

The tumors…

He couldn't stop thinking about the tumors threatening his health and his leg. He blamed his blind hope to re-grow and regain the large clump of muscle hacked away when he had been in a chemically-induced coma, expecting a possible full use of his leg upon recovery.

He glanced at the CT scan he had procured hours earlier, forehead creasing at the number of tumors blinding him and his screwed up judgment and rationale.

Lately, his leg throbbed and hurt even more- the price he had to pay for using an untested drug on his leg in the hopes that he would be able to grow back the muscle in his thigh.

Eyes glued onto the scan before him, he thought of what he must do to save it and make it better.

He knew what he _had_ to do, but he decided to turn away from it and chose to go with what he thought he needed to do. He wanted to avoid the possibility of having his leg amputated.

In a few minutes, hand running along the jagged valley that was his scar, his mind was made up. He wasn't going to consult a surgeon regarding the tumors.

He was going to operate on himself.

He knew attempting self-surgery was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to wager on if it meant having control over what happened to his leg.

He walked to his office, drew the blinds closed, and sat on his ergonomic chair.

He had to plan everything meticulously before he acted.

* * *

><p>Over the past few days, Cuddy couldn't help but notice that House was still limping a lot more than usual, and she couldn't help but concern herself with his problem. From a stranger's point of view, he looked older, more haggard. The bags under his eyes were as prominent as the cerulean color of his beautiful yet troubled eyes.<p>

She wanted nothing more than to talk to him and ask him what was wrong and why he was looking more stressed and burnt out lately, but she had to maintain her distance from him. She could only keep an eye on him from afar, but she couldn't and shouldn't allow herself to assess him at a closer range because it would only be awkward and uncomfortable. He'd ask her why she cared at all, she'd tell him she'll always care, then he'd tell her he was fine and ask her to leave. It had happened so many times before.

She wondered (ever the narcissist) if she was a key player in his stress levels rising, but pushed that off her mind.

She was not to be blamed for anything. She had a right to sever what they had in search of a normal and trouble-free life without him. And she had—severed whatever they had.

She took a deep breath and reluctantly walked away from his office, the last sight on her mind was his form, slouched on his office chair, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders and his eyes staring out at a far off distance.

His troubles were not her concern anymore.

She had made that perfectly clear to him and Wilson.

* * *

><p><strong><em>9:55 PM, House's apartment<em>**

Vicodin… House had taken a few earlier, more from nerves rather than need.

House stood in the middle of his sanitized bathroom seemingly in a trance. Two flexible arm lamps—one a magnifying lamp—were clamped to the chair he used as a makeshift table and were part of the set up around him.

Every surgical tool and other materials he needed were in a tray on the chair, beside him, covered with surgical draping. His phone lay ready on the tray, a phone call away from rescue if something went uncontrollably wrong. A portable cauterizing instrument also laid waiting on the tray.

He shook himself internally a moment later and set to completing his preparations before he cut into his own thigh. He taped the CT scan he had taken by himself onto the wall by the bathtub which was to be on his left. A rolled-up towel lay taped against the wall beside the scan. He also propped a stack of medical books on the right side at the foot of the bathtub.

House sat on the outer edge of his bathtub before he wrapped a tourniquet around his upper right thigh, just above his scar, before taking the spoon out of his mouth. He twisted the spoon into the rubber tubing to tighten it and grimaced as it did.

Unsteadily, House rose from the edge of the tub, taking a painful step before turning to get into it. He slowly lowered himself into his makeshift operating table and propped his damaged leg against the stack of medical tomes.

After putting on a pair of surgical gloves, House sterilized his thigh prior to the surgery using a sponge to evenly spread the solution consisting of ten percent povidone iodine mixed with sterile water. After applying the topical solution, House set aside the sponge.

House braced himself, shifting in his seat, before reaching for a syringe on the tray. Carefully and with precision, he started injecting multiple syringes filled with anesthetic along calculated areas on his thigh. He had ten syringes filled with anesthetic, laid out neatly on the tray before he started. He used five.

The instant he felt the scalpel digging into his skin, he blanched and let out a lengthy breath; from the pain, from his undeniable stupidity at what he was doing. His stomach lurched and his muscles tightened as he cut into himself, the urge to throw up creeping into his system. But he pushed on, his hand trembling as he cut into his damaged thigh, hoping to whatever false entity stupid enough to lend him an ear that what he was doing wouldn't end up with him six feet under the earth he'd grown to dislike.

His breathing and the quiet sound of the incision he was making along his thigh filled the room.

He steeled himself after he had finished the incision, taking deep breaths. He reached for a retractor, biting the inside of his cheek as he pulled apart the incision and locked it in place.

With one hand he positioned the magnifying lamp inches above the gaping hole he had just cut and stretched. He took a pair of forceps from the tray and, once again, braced himself for the actual surgery.

He hadn't even begun, yet he already felt so exhausted. He was about to reach inside his leg when he felt sweat cascading down his forehead. He blinked, stopping the liquid from dripping even further, and leant back. He wiped his forehead against the rolled up towel situated to his left.

Seemingly having located the first tumor, House gritted his teeth as he started moving his hand forward to reach inside his leg, gripping the tumor yet unable to pull. The pain was becoming more unbearable and he pulled his hand back, his teeth gnashing together in an attempt to stop himself from bellowing in pain. He picked up a syringe from the tray and looked at the CT scan film before sticking the needle into his leg. He didn't spare a minute to feel the localized numbness.

The wound he had inflicted on himself was bleeding heavily; he knew he had to do something about it. The blood, _his _blood, ran down the sides of his leg and onto the stark white of the bathtub, dousing his boxers. He had only just begun. He knew more than anyone else that the pain he was feeling had yet to escalate. Yet, he didn't stop. He couldn't stop now he thought to himself as he trembled.

He quickly reached for the portable cauterizer and began to seal off a few blood vessels. His feet pushed against the stack of books, calf muscles constricting, and toes flexing in suppressed agony as he watched the cauterizer do its duty.

Seconds later, he finished sealing off blood vessels with the cauterizer to minimize the amount of blood he was losing. House reached for the scalpel with his trembling left hand before transferring it to his right.

Scalpel in place, he slowly cut into his tissue to reach the first tumor. He was slowly turning pale, but he was still unfazed.

With the forceps, House extracted the tumor forcefully from his leg, gritting his teeth and shaking uncontrollably. When he finally extracted the tumor, he gazed at it, cursing himself for having caused its presence in his leg in the first place.

House deposited the tumor in a metal bowl and trailed his gaze back to the CT scan of his leg. Two more, he told himself. Two more until his self-inflicted Hell was over.

There were two more… two more tumors.

He rubbed his temples against the towel again then looked back at the printed scan. He blinked once and he sniffed before hunching forward and trying to locate the second tumor.

His body shook more violently and he had no choice but to steel himself yet again—he had a choice, he knew, but it was a choice he was not going to make unless it was his last resort.

He pulled his hand and attention away from his leg again, groaning and grunting. He observed the scan for the hundredth time, memorizing the location and doing his damnedest to visualize it through the pain blurring his thoughts and vision.

Two more, he reminded himself. Two more.

Exhaling and inhaling arduously, House held the scalpel inside the hole in his leg again, dangerously close to passing out. As the scalpel cut into his tissue a second time, he gnawed his teeth against each other, eyes painfully squinting as he repressed his scream.

Pain engulfed him as he drove the scalpel deeper into his leg to extract the second tumor.

A stabbing jolt of pain traveled from his leg into his entire body, making him repeatedly throw his head back against the tiled wall behind him in agony. Blood flowed freely down his leg, drenching whatever it could. His eyes screwed shut as he vainly fought against the merciless onslaught of pain he had subjected himself to.

He gasped and panted, swinging his head to the side as he rode out the pain.

He felt nothing but the pain he had always desperately ran from ever since the infarction.

The pain tackled and wrapped itself around every fiber of his being.

He let go of the scalpel with tremulous fingers and gritted his teeth, his leg pushing against the books.

As the pain finally took a toll on him, he anxiously, angrily shoved the magnifying lamp to the side and curled his fingers into his palm, clenching his fist. He tried to shift in the bathtub with his arms, but the pain rendered him immobile, making him arch his head back with a cry from the torturous pain eating him from the inside out.

He whimpered and grunted in frustration, breathing heavily at the same time. His knuckles turned white as he repetitively banged his hand against the side of his tub, eyes still screwed shut.

A few seconds of indescribable agony passed before he finally reached for his cell phone. Catching a glimpse of the blood marring the initially sterile gloves, House took them off with haste before finally reaching for the device.

Steeling himself, he attempted to suppress the throbbing, closing his eyes before he actually called somebody. He encouraged himself internally to ride through every stinging wave of nauseating pain and agony beating his battered and bruised form so he could continue. He was on the verge of passing out from what he was feeling. He did not even last thirty seconds before he gave up, reluctantly waving the white flag on doing the surgery on his own.

He grudgingly acknowledged that help was what he needed.

He needed help excising the tumors, not bring him to some godforsaken hospital with idiot doctors who'd choose amputation because they were too lazy to even try and save the patient's leg.

He took a deep breath before looking back down at his phone.

He speed-dialed Wilson's cell phone first and waited for the dependable oncologist to pickup.

Two calls later, House moved on and dialed Taub's cell next.

When the Jewish dwarf didn't answer either, he tried Chase's, then Thirteen's, and after that, Foreman's.

Bitterly, he laughed mirthlessly as the last and final person he could call entered his mind.

He knew then that if _she_ did not heed his call for assistance that he would be faced with two final options.

He could try and call the people he had called for help, again… or allow himself to go into shock and bleed to death or call for an ambulance and risk having to wake up without his right leg.

He was too stubborn to choose the former.

He wanted to live, but he didn't want to live sans his right leg.

He could live with the judgment he'd get for injecting and inhaling a trial drug in its early stages to try and re-grow the muscle in his thigh. He didn't give a damn what they would think.

He couldn't live without his leg. He refused to.

As he dialed Cuddy's number, he desperately prayed that she wouldn't ignore his call.

He needed her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:46 PM, Cuddy's house<strong>_

Cuddy stirred as the ringing of her Blackberry and the sounds coming from her TV woke her up.

Turning in bed, she grabbed the ringing and vibrating Blackberry from her nightstand and propped herself up with her elbows before glancing at her daughter who was engrossed with what she was watching.

Slowly, she sat up and asked her daughter, "Why aren't you in bed?"

Rachel was watching a filthy adult, pirate cartoon. Cuddy's eyes squinted as she took notice of the very voluptuous and scantily clad animated woman walking the plank of a pirate ship. The pirate was on the same plank. There were alligators in the water, waiting for their busty meal.

Her eyes made contact with the screen of her TV when Rachel didn't reply and she narrowed her eyes.

"Jibber me jabbers. I'll give ye splinters in yer arse, ye mangy bilge rat," Cuddy heard the pirate whose name she didn't know was Brownbeard say.

Cuddy closed her eyes and reopened them as she had to do a double take to make sure she was really seeing what she was seeing.

In a whisper, she asked Rachel, "What are you watching?"

"TV, you bloody scallywag," Rachel replied, eyes still glued on the screen, a small grin on her lips.

Cuddy couldn't believe that her daughter actually liked the filthy cartoon and she did what she thought was best to preserve her daughter's innocent eyes and developing mind. With one button, she turned off the TV.

"Moooom!" Rachel whined as the screen blacked out. She turned and looked at her mother with her lips jutting out, but she didn't say anything else.

Cuddy's forehead creased and her lips pursed as she registered that it was House's name on the screen.

She pressed the answer key and recited House's infamous lines whenever he answered his phone.

"Someone better be dying."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ **_Liked, loved, hated it? MOAR? :) Leave a review to let me know what you think, please! :D _**

_Thank you so much for reading and taking a few minutes to leave a comment or review! :D_


	17. XVI

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. A great deal of this chapter came from season 7 of House's 22nd episode, After Hours. The plot of that epi's not mine, some of the lines seen aren't mine either. These lines are owned by the writer(s) who wrote the episode. (: Just borrowed.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Thanks to **Penelope S Cartwright** for beta and whiteboard services! :) _

**_OKAY, so I couldn't resist you guys... here's Broken Strings 16!_**_ **3k+ words!**_

_Still following After Hours' plot. __Filled in the blanks a bit and added some stuff. Don't worry, original stuff coming soon! :)_

**_Still, I hope you like it and leave some love because I'm kinda nervous!  
>Constructive criticism warmly accepted too! ;)<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XVI<em>**

.

_Cuddy's forehead creased and her lips pursed as she registered that it was House's name on her screen. _

_She pressed the answer key and recited House's infamous lines whenever he answered his phone. _

"_Someone better be dying."_

Shakily, House murmured, "I may be." He paused, scrunching up his face before saying, "Not quite sure though."

The reply she received surprised and confused her as she heard the exhaustion and pain evident in his voice. She frowned as she registered the effort he had to exert in order to speak and breathe at the same time.

"House, what do you want?" she opted to ask, hoping he was just drunk out of his mind or terribly hung-over.

"Need you," he mumbled, almost embarrassed to have called _her _at all, for help.

Cuddy exhaled through her nose and asked, "Why?"

House sighed. "Because in less than an hour, I could bleed to death… Or, I don't know, die from shock. Given your guilt complex, I—"

"What are you talking about?" Her eyelids drooped further and her forehead creased as she tried to process his words through her sleep-induced haze.

House was too tired to explain. It was getting harder for him to speak.

"Cuddy…" he whispered desperately. "Just come. Please. I need you."

House's words evoked a sense of fear and worry in Cuddy's chest and she was powerless to stop her legs from automatically heeding his call. She got out of bed and started changing into something casual, ignoring the confused look on her little daughter's face.

"Don't bring Rachel," House told her before hanging up. He wasn't going to thank her. At least not yet.

Cuddy's forehead creased as she pulled on her cardigan after depositing her phone onto the bed, wondering what House had done to himself. When she finished getting ready, she carried Rachel to her own room before putting her down on the couch there.

"Where we going, Mommy?" her daughter asked quietly.

"We're going to see House," Cuddy said, smiling forcedly. Rachel piped up upon that statement and she willingly let her mother help put on her had no idea what they were going to see when they get there, but she hoped it wasn't that bad.

"Come on, sweetie," Cuddy said, taking Rachel's hand and leaving their home to go help House.

Nothing could have prepared Cuddy for what she saw as she stopped at the door of House's bathroom.

"Sweetie… go wait for Mommy by the couch, okay? Go on." She told her daughter, her eyebrows drawn together as she turned to look House over.

Surprise couldn't have described what she felt the moment she saw him. At first sight, her chest tightened and became a powerhouse of mixed emotions.

She wanted to be angry—she _was _angry! How could he have been so stupid—actually, she thought, stupid was an understatement—as to perform self-surgery?

As she looked his body over after having unsuccessfully composed herself, she feared the possibility of having to amputate his leg or him being dangerously anemic.

House's eyes watched as she assessed what he'd done. He hated that she was the only one he could call, but he still needed her help. He needed a doctor to complete the excising of the tumors on his leg, but he needed a doctor he could trust _and _control.

Trembling, House informed her, "I tried calling everyone else. You were the last one on the list."

Somehow, he had to make it known that she was the last person he wanted to call. He knew he was only protecting himself.

"Any reason why 911 wasn't on the list?" she asked him, bothered by what she was seeing.

"It's not an emergency," House stated simply. He was sweating profusely.

Cuddy approached him and kneeled beside the bathtub, eyes glued on the blood that had stained his skin and the things around him.

Cuddy gazed at the tray, the blood everywhere, and the empty syringes. She saw the gaping hole in his thigh. But nothing else caught her attention the way that the orange prescription bottle to the left did.

She froze in her place, temporarily stunned that he might have relapsed again.

House followed her gaze and his eyes zeroed in on the pill bottle which encased his vicodin. He knew what she had to be thinking.

"You—"

He quickly cut her off; he was too tired to lie to her like he did the last time she asked.

"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered slightly irate, thinking she must have narcissistically thought she could be the cause of him taking vicodin again.

As another sting of pain radiated from his leg, he sighed tremblingly and said, "No. I needed it."

The doctor in Cuddy kicked in and she let it go. What he said was too painfully true. If he had indeed attempted self-surgery, she understood why he would need the damned drugs.

She took note of the effort he had to exert to breathe and the way he was trembling and wrapping his arms around himself, shivering.

"Are you suicidal?" she asked. Her tone was part rhetorical and part seriously considering that he was.

House's reply was quick as he gasped from the pain. "I'm not attempting bypass surgery. The tumors are small and they're close to the surface. I thought it'd be like… removing a wart." He told her, his shivering getting worse. True, he thought it would be easy albeit painful, but he thought wrong.

As she watched him clearly in pain, Cuddy couldn't help how her voice broke when she replied. The redness of his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the blood he had lost, just thinking of it made her heart ache. She knew he was crazy for doing it, but she still felt for him—she would never stop caring for him.

How could she not? Seeing the person you love self-destructing right before your eyes would hurt anyone.

"You couldn't wait 'til morning; bring your CT scans to an actual surgeon?" she asked, a sliver of anger escaping her tongue. She knew of a possible reason, but she was still incredulous that he was, as a doctor himself, stupid enough to go through with it.

"Surgeons are idiots," House negated, "They'd just hack away at the muscle until they get worn out."

"Or you're just ashamed you've been injecting a drug that hasn't even gone through safety trials. It's never even been in the human body," Cuddy countered, more anger leaving her as he remained stubborn and adamant in admitting his folly.

She knew what his problem was. She knew why he didn't call for an ambulance instead.

He was afraid of losing his leg.

He could endure the pain of excising the tumors himself.

He would never be able to endure the pain, physical and psychological, of losing his leg.

House ignored her words and told her, "I got one of the tumors. The second one is close," he told her, nodding towards the scan before looking back down at his leg, unable to meet her eyes just yet. He hated having to subject her to this, but he knew it had to be done. He couldn't go to the hospital until he'd excised all tumors because then, all they'd have left to do is stitch him up.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Cuddy told him sternly, shaking her head as she stood. She refused to take part in his insanity. His bathroom was far from a hospital setting. If she didn't get him to the hospital soon, she knew he could, as he had said over the phone when he'd called, die from blood loss or shock.

"Just… just excise the tumor!" House desperately pleaded, his eyes beseeching her.

"Absolutely not!" Cuddy adamantly told him, her voice rising.

Knowing he'd lost, House lowered his head. As he mulled his frustration and anger, his failed attempts at excising the rest of the tumorsturned into a misdirected hostility towards her. He kept his mouth shut, his blood curdling in his veins as he contained himself.

Cuddy inhaled through her nose and exhaled before turning to look at him, thinking of how she would transfer him to her car. He was too heavy. With one leg and his pain scale right now, she knew he wouldn't even be able to take much of his weight off her if they even tried.

"I won't be able to help you to my car," she said, eyebrows drawn together as she looked at him. "Stay there, I'll get help," she said.

Before she could reach the door to his bathroom though, House made a last attempt at stopping her from delivering him to the "butchers" on a silver plate.

"Cuddy…" he waited until she looked at him with exasperation before he continued saying, "Please… don't bring me to the hospital."

His eyes bored into hers, but she had to do what was best for him. And at that moment, she was the only one who knew what that was.

"No. You'll thank me later," she mumbled, before turning. She would be able to stomach his wrath and anger at her. She wouldn't be able to stand seeing him lose his leg from his own futile attempts at saving it.

Before she could leave, however, House viciously snarled at her, "Not if they cut off my leg, I won't."

He was lashing out, she knew.

She could live with that.

She always had.

House lowered his head, doing his best to keep his breathing as quiet as he could. He didn't want to risk Rachel running into the bathroom even if he guessed that Cuddy had brought her along in search of someone to help transfer him didn't have to ask why she brought her:she didn't have any choice.

As the seconds ticked by, he couldn't help but get more anxious. His heart continued banging against its cavity and his nerves were on edge.

As he thought of the possibility of losing his leg whilst he was under, the urge to flee, right at that moment, surged inside him.

He steeled himself, holding his breath as he tried to move from his seated position in the tub. He had to stand to his feet. He had to get somewhere Cuddy wouldn't be able to find him. He _needed_ control over whatever was going to happen with his leg. At least then he knew it was _his _choice. Not some lazy surgeon, not a woman who thought she knew what was best for him, not anybody else who thought they knew better.

He couldn't lose control over his leg's fate.

But as he tried to maneuver himself in the tub, he only aggravated his leg and the pain engulfed him. Tears sprang from his eyes and bile threatened to rise from his throat as he slid back down and leaned back against the tub and tiled wall, breathing harshly. His body shook uncontrollably as he vainly attempted to reduce the pain by sitting still and thinking of something else, but he couldn't hide from the pain. There was no diverting his attention from it.

The pain had become him, and it was killing him.

He leaned to the left, his head resting against the towel. He acquiesced to the fact that Cuddy was going to bring him to the hospital and that he was going to have to trust her.

He was also going to have to ask her to stay and watch over him, ask her to not let them cut off his leg if it had to be done.

Tears and sweat came together, drenching his face. He sniffled, his arms wrapping themselves around him. It was getting too cold. Give or take an hour less, he thought, he could go into shock.

He only hoped he'd be awake long enough to rest his leg's fate with her and trust her again.

A good six minutes later, Cuddy walked back into the bathroom followed by a strapping man who looked outrageously surprised and disgusted at the sight that welcomed him. Nevertheless the man did his best to bite his tongue and help though.

Cuddy, who knew House's apartment by heart, exited his bathroom again and retrieved a navy blue sweatshirt, a pair of Nikes, and a thick blanket from the linen closet. She walked back towards his bathroom and placed the items she had taken on the floor beside the chair. She knelt beside him and did her best to wipe away blood from beneath his legs before wrapping the blanket around his leg. He was soaked in a cold sweat. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, but she knew better than to do that.

Her eyes roamed his face and she swore he had cried or at least allowed himself to shed some tears (either from the pain or vulnerability, she didn't know) while she'd been out knocking on his neighbors' doors for help. She finally allowed herself to touch him under the pretense of wiping his face dry from sweat.

He must have been too tired to fight against going to the hospital as she tried to help him into his a moment, she felt him lean his forehead against her shoulder in a moment of frailty. She could feel the heaviness of his breathing against her shoulder and she could hear the whimpers he was trying to subdue.

He could have sworn her arms wrapped around him, but even if they had, it lasted far shorter than two seconds. Nevertheless, his anger lessened and he was thankful that she came. No matter how tough and stern she was being, she was the only one who truly came close to entirely understanding his pain (he had his moments when he was certain she did not).

She took one of the Nikes and helped his left foot into it, tying the laces as well. She reached for the other shoe, loosened up the laces and pulled at the tongue to widen the space for her to maneuver his right foot into the shoe without jarring his thigh in the process. Carefully, she pushed the shoe on his right foot, gently steadying his leg by his ankle.

During that, she couldn't help but notice that House looked completely vulnerable, being helped by none but her. When she lifted her eyes to look at him, he looked away, unable to sustain their gaze for more than a second at that moment.

When they finished, Cuddy stood up and exited the apartment to start her car and open the right passenger door before walking back inside the building and allowing the man, House's neighbor from upstairs, tosituate House in her car.

Carefully, the man assisted House to the car. Along the way he had gritted his teeth and struggled not to scream in pain from the transfer. When, finally, he was situated in the car, propped against the door on the driver's side, House relaxed against it and did his best to regulate his breathing.

Cuddy locked up House's apartment, took Rachel by the hand and strapped her into her booster seat. She would have placed her in the rear seat, but she didn't want her to be too exposed to the blood House was covered in and House's weakness.

She knew even House didn't want Rachel to see him in the state he was in.

Cuddy thanked House's neighbor, got in the car, and started driving to the hospital.

"You know he only helped you because he thought you looked hot," he stated, unknowingly trying to diffuse the tension wafting inside the vehicle.

Cuddy would have rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, replied, "I think there's a compliment there, somewhere."

House smirked weakly before looking outside the window.

"Nope."

Cuddy kept an eye on House from time to time through her rear-view mirror as she drove.

Seven minutes into the silent drive, Rachel leant forward to look at House and she asked, "What happened to your leg?"

Cuddy looked at House as he looked at Rachel once before diverting his gaze.

"I was trying to make it better," he told her honestly, his voice tired.

"He was being reckless," Cuddy muttered. She looked at Rachel before gently making her lean back against her seat as she said, "Sit back, honey."

Irritated, Cuddy told House, "This isn't about making your leg better. It's about making your life better."

Rolling his eyes, House whispered, "Here we go. I wish I had called 911."Actually, he didn't.

"Why else would you risk your life doing something so stupid?" Cuddy stated, still not over the disbelief she felt. He was the most stupid medical maverick she knew.

Sarcastically, House told her, "Well, you know, I've had a lot of setbacks lately."

"Don't blame our breakup for this. You're not unhappy because of me. You're just unhappy. Unhappy people do reckless things."

House lowered his gaze. Cuddy watched as he did. A second later their eyes met and Cuddy redirected her gaze to the road ahead of her.

It was silent in the car until House spoke.

"I was," he started, hesitant in continuing.

A second later he did, saying somberly, "I was happy, with you. You never were content. I had to bend over backwards to make sure you didn't leave me. I was there for you every time."

Their eyes met in the mirror before House continued.

"But the one moment I wasn't, after telling you I'd always choose you… you broke up with me. How can I _not _be unhappy?"

Cuddy didn't answer. She kept her eyes on the road.

"Almost a month ago," he breathed, the reminder still stung. "You came to me and told me that in telling you the truth, things could change between us. You made me hope only to snatch that away by leaving after we had sex. After implying you'd stay when I asked you to."

Bitterly, he chuckled as he mirthlessly said, "But hey, at least it was good, right? And free."

She couldn't find the words to reply. Because though his words had the slightest of flaws in comparison with her own memories, what he was stating was nothing but the truth.

"Somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew you would leave. I didn't care. I was too happy thinking I could have you back."

"House, stop," Cuddy told him softly. Her chest tightened, but she couldn't say anything more. He rarely talked about his feelings, so when he did, it was always hard. And she always listened.

He met her eyes once more before he looked outside the window.

Quietly and detachedly, he asked her again, "Don't I have the right to be unhappy?"

He didn't expect a reply.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: ****Loved, liked, disliked it? Do drop a rev and lemme know your thoughts! :)**_

_**Thanks for reading and being patient with me!**_


	18. XVII

**DISCLAIMER:**** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. A great deal of this chapter came from season 7 of House's 22nd episode, After Hours. The plot of that epi's not mine, some of the lines seen aren't mine either. These lines are owned by the writer(s) who wrote the episode. (: Just borrowed.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Thanks to **Penelope S Cartwright** for beta and whiteboard services! :)_

**_Thank you so much for the reviews last chapter! I have yet to reply to them! :) _**

_Still following After Hours' plot._

**_:)_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XVII<em>**

.

"There are no cars coming. Just go," House told her, his voice low.

"The light is red, ye bloody scallywag!" Rachel chastised playfully, leaning forward in her seat as she looked at the stoplight.

Cuddy smirked, turning her head towards Rachel. "Stop with the pirate talk," she told her daughter.

As House started to reply, Rachel turned to look back at him, a smile crossing her lips. "If you don't want Brownbeard to end up with two wooden legs, better get yer Ma to move this ship, you mangy bilge rat," House spoke to Rachel, his Brownbeard imitation making her grin smugly before breaking into a short giggle fit despite her mother's gentle scolding.

Cuddy sighed in annoyance before she nodded stiffly.

"Of course," she said unenthusiastically, "You showed her that filthy cartoon. What kind of idiot lets a three-year-old watch that?"

House took a second before he answered her in a monotonous voice, "If you want to lecture me on my poor judgment, there would seem to be more relevant examples."

Cuddy exhaled through her nose, choosing not to speak. They were nearing the hospital.

* * *

><p>When they had arrived, Cuddy informed the best surgeon available about the situation and asked that an OR be prepped for House's surgery.<p>

As they waited in the bustling ER's hallway, Cuddy and Rachel each sat on chairs situated across from the gurney House was in. He was still wearing the clothes he had arrived in and his leg was still wrapped in the thick blanket. Dried blood painted his leg.

Fifteen minutes later, Cuddy stood as her eyes caught sight of House's heart rate on the monitor. She frowned and moved towards him, feeling his forehead.

"Your heart rate is over 120. You're clammy. I think you're going into shock. Are you lightheaded?" she asked him, running her left hand through her hair.

House moved his head to the left, leaning further into the mattress as he whispered "I'm fine."

Cuddy noted that he wasn't. He was still shivering and sweating. She pursed her lips and looked to the left, checking if the nurse they had spoken to was approaching; she wasn't.

House looked at Rachel who was watching him and Cuddy and instead of having her ask him about his leg again, he asked her, "Did you see the new Brownbeard episode?"

Rachel relaxed against the chair before telling House, "It was so funny," while her eyes widened a bit upon recalling the episode. Her words made her mother look down at her with a slightly perturbed face, but focused on locating the nurse.

"No, it was so lame," House disagreed. "Got a boat full of guy pirates and they make the girl pirate walk the plank."

"She floated," Rachel reminded him with a grin.

House smirked, telling the little girl "That's 'cause she had big boobies. That's why he should have kept her."

"We've got to get you into surgery," Cuddy suddenly interrupted the conversation, taking a quick hold of House's wrist, making him look up at her. "Where is that nurse?" she wondered audibly, letting go of House and moving to take hold of Rachel's hand and telling her daughter, "Rachel, let's go find the nurse."

House watched them retreating before closing his eyes and leaning against the bed, breathing through his nose. A few seconds later his phone rang and he gingerly moved to retrieve it and check who was calling him.

"2:00 AM. Nice of you to call me back," he told Thirteen in a quiet yet snarky voice, almost bitter that he hadn't responded to his first call. He _knew _he could control Thirteen after a few barbs.

"Chase and I are in the hospital with a patient," the younger doctor informed him.

"You've completely run out of ideas and you're calling me to bail you out. I'm touched, hit me," House told them, agreeing only because he knew whatever they were going to dish out would distract him from the pain and lightheadedness clouding his mind.

During their differential over the phone, the pain had started to flare up again and a new spot of fresh blood had appeared on the blanket. He hung up when Rachel, Cuddy and a nurse appeared; they were ready to prep him for surgery.

Cuddy stayed with Rachel outside the room, waiting for them to finish cleaning House prior to the operation. When they finished, the OR nurse called Cuddy back into the room, making her leave Rachel with a nurse she trusted.

As they waited for the nurse to tell them they were ready, House and Cuddy waited in silence.

Their eyes were fixed on each other, speaking without words, expressing their innermost feelings with their eyes alone. He could read her apparent disappointment, her confusion, her disbelief, her worry. She could read the blatant fear and pain practically etched on his face. She also read the shame in his eyes before he looked away, sighing heavily.

She watched as he processed things, eyes transfixed blankly onto the doors in front of him. He looked like a child afraid he'd never get out of there in one piece. He also looked like he was internally debating with himself over something.

He looked at her again, his eyes stripped of any other emotion but vulnerability and fear. They were interrupted by the OR nurse entering the room.

"They're ready for you," she said.

With a heavy heart, Cuddy stood to leave, meeting his eyes one last time before she left.

As she reached for the door handle though, House stopped her.

"W—wait," he said, his nervousness seeping into every letter of the word he had just uttered.

"I want you in there," House told her.

Drained, Cuddy turned to look at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm not a surgeon, there's nothing I can do," she told him.

"Well, you can make sure that… idiot butcher doesn't cut more than he needs to."

Cuddy didn't know what to do, but Rachel needed her more than House did. She knew what House was afraid of, she knew what he wanted to avoid. She knew why he needed her there.

And, knowing that she had once broken his trust when it came to his leg… him asking her to be there for him at that moment to secure that his leg won't be taken from him, she understood just how afraid he was and just how much he was willing to gamble in placing his trust in her.

Cuddy took a few steps closer to him and sighed. "You already signed a release," she reminded him, "He's gonna do what he needs to do."

"Yeah," he breathed, his voice breaking slightly as he continued, "If that involves chopping off my leg…" he looked down, his eyes hardening as he lifted his head back up to look her in the eye.

Despite his tone, she heard his plea.

"I want to be sure that that's damn well necessary."

House sighed, hoping with all he had left in him that she'd stay.

"House…" Cuddy whispered, her resolve breaking. She stood gazing at him, the man she loved, begging her to watch over him when no one else would. How could she not be there for him?

"I don't trust them," he finally admitted, ."I trust you."

Those three powerful words made her heart clench and she knew then that no matter how much she wanted to deny him his wish, she just couldn't.

As the orderlies started wheeling House into the OR, she watched as House looked at her pleadingly, his body seemingly acting of its own accord, shifting farther from the door as they wheeled him closer to it.

She knew she had to be there. For him.

If he lost his leg, she knew there was a great chance that she could forever lose the man she loved over his misery.

Despite everything they had done to one another, she still wanted him to be happy.

Cuddy turned her head from his soul-searching gaze and followed them, her heart aching.

* * *

><p>She seemed to be in a trance-like state as her eyes guarded House from where she stood. Their eyes had met again as they put him under, reminding her of his face as she had gazed up at him before her surgery many weeks ago, as if one look from her could give him the strength he needed. She had watched as his eyes slowly closed and he slipped into unconsciousness.<p>

She wondered briefly if he had felt the same way she was feeling at that moment, when he had watched her surgery from the observation room, fearful and trying her best to toughen herself up as she kept an eye on him and what the surgeon was doing.

Whether or not he had taken the vicodin then, she understood that even that pill wouldn't have numbed him from the pain of seeing someone you love unconscious and on an operating table.

She had come to accept the fact that he had taken the vicodin to steel himself, brace himself for whatever the surgery's outcome would have been. He had been scared. They had only just begun their relationship then. She had understood him when he told her himself of the reason why he'd taken the vicodin.

Losing her just after finally having her; it was no wonder he had to numb himself.

Standing in the place where he'd stood a couple of weeks ago, understanding pervaded her being even more.

As she watched, she couldn't help the influx of memories. She was powerless to stop the surge of sweet and bitter and wonderful and painful memories connecting them with regards to his leg. The times he let her in and the times he pushed her away. The times he hid his pain from her and Rachel and the times she found him hiding from her and pulling him from his shell to be able to help him.

As her eyes zeroed in on every meticulous movement of the surgeon's hands she thought of him and the timeline of his downward spiral and its escalation since they'd broken up. She had her share of scars, he did, too. She couldn't help but ask herself whether or not those things would have happened had they still been together. She couldn't help but allow a sliver of guilt to slowly eat at her.

Two and a half hours which felt like days passed by and she remained unmoving, watching over him;his guardian angel.

A voice, the surgeon's, broke her from her trance and she was thankful that the surgeon's only words were that the excision had been successful and that House was going to be wheeled into recovery soon.

"Thank you," were the only words she could speak at the moment. She was relieved that amputation had not been brought up at all.

He was going to be as fine as House ever was.

* * *

><p>They could have gone home.<p>

She could have brought her daughter home so she could finally have a fitful sleep.

Cuddy didn't know why she felt like she had to stay.

It could have been her need to see if he was okay. She saw the surgery through the end, a nagging voice at the back of her mind reminded her. He's going to be _fine, _it said. _Go home._

Still, she didn't.

The reason could have been her guilt.

In a way, it was.

She didn't know—she didn't think she even wanted to know what the reason was, but she decided to stay and watch over him for a while.

It was ironic—her staying when he most probably wouldn't have wanted her to. They had a great record of doing the opposite of what the other wanted; some considered it one hell of foreplay for them.

"Is he going to be okay?" Rachel suddenly asked as Cuddy ran her fingers absentmindedly through her hair.

Cuddy tilted her head down to look at Rachel, her lips pursing and her chest tightening at her daughter's concern.

Her answer was automatic.

"He'll be fine," she told her, adding, "Close your eyes."

A second later Rachel confided in her mother, unknowingly adding to her sadness.

"I wish House still came over to play," Rachel told Cuddy sadly.

Cuddy tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trying to think of something to ease her daughter's sadness.

"Well…" she started, trying to sound a bit cheerful for Rachel.

"Maybe you should… write him a letter." Rachel nodded against her thigh and Cuddy piped up a bit, asking her, "Want to do that? Okay, let's do it."

Rachel sat up excitedly despite her tiredness and waited for her mother as she pulled out her journal and a pen out of her purse.

"Okay… so what do you want to tell House?" Cuddy asked her daughter as she opened the journal and turned the page to a blank one.

Rachel brought a hand to her chin, thinking. "Uhm… I hope your leg feels better soon, ye bloody scallywag," she said, smiling as she giggled in hushed tones.

Cuddy had to smirk at her daughter's chosen message.

"Okay, come here," Cuddy said, making Rachel move closer to her. Cuddy brought the little girl to sit on her lap and placed the journal in between Rachel's legs so she could help her daughter write.

Together, they wrote on the paper.

_I hope your leg feels better and I hope we can be friends again soon, you bloody scallywag._

Rachel smiled up at her when they finished writing and Cuddy gave Rachel free reign over the paper to let her draw whatever she wanted. Cuddy watched her daughter's face as she drew scribbles along the corners. Her gaze was torn from her daughter as she brought her eyes to the unconscious man on the bed.

Back then she wouldn't have believed it if anyone approached her and told her that House would be great with her daughter; that they'd form a strong bond together.

With Rachel happily scribbling away, Cuddy walked to the side of House's bed. He looked so peaceful, she thought, her eyes recalling every worry line she had memorized, on his face.

Tentatively she reached out and touched him, cupping his she stroked his cheek, the answer to her earlier question was answered whether or not she wanted it to be.

The painful reason why she was holding off leaving him just yet was becauseHouse was still unconscious. It was the only moment she could be there for him, close to him. It was the only moment; the moment when he was unaware of her presence that she could be with him again without seeing the sadness in his eyes which she'd caused.

She wouldn't be able to be as close, sit as close to him when he woke up because she knew him. He would push her away, ask why she was there and ask her to leave.

She fought with herself over staying until he woke up. She knew she couldn't and knew she shouldn't. She retracted her hand from his face and turned on her heel.

"You done, honey?" Cuddy asked Rachel who nodded sleepily, rubbing her knuckle against her eyes.

"Okay, let's go home," she smiled tenderly at Rachel who gave her a sleepy smile back.

Cuddy took her journal and peeled off the page. She folded the paper in half and set it on the table on the foot of House's bed.

What she was unaware of was that she was slowly running out of reasons why she shouldn't let him into her heart again. The mask of denial she had worn ever since their breakup was slowly slipping off.

* * *

><p>The second he woke up, he felt for his leg. Relief washed over him as his hands continued to appraiseit.<p>

As soon as he felt eyes watching him his eyes fell on Wilson's tired and disappointed brown eyes. He gazed up at the ceiling, having heard enough from Cuddy the night before. He didn't need any more judgmental people telling him off.

He shouldn't have been surprised not to see Cuddy with the little one in the room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, still looking at the ceiling.

"You hoping for someone else?" Wilson knowinglyaskedknowingly asked dryly.

House shut his mouth, blinking once as he retreated to his shell and reverted to his sarcastic demeanor, said, "Hot nurse, candy striper… Someone who doesn't speak English. Someone who doesn't speak judgmental."

"You've got mail," Wilson said as he stood up and took hold of Rachel's letter, ignoring House's attempt at making him leave or shut up.

Instead of handing the letter to House, Wilson chose to read it aloud. "I hope your leg feels better and I hope we can be friends again soon, you bloody scallywag," he read, smirking at House after doing so.

House would have smiled, but restrained himself.

"I have to pee," he said, lolling his head to the left as he slowly started to push himself to a sitting position.

Wilson put down the letter and took the empty urine bottle and handed it to House who didn't accept it.

"I'm a big boy," House told him, grimacing as he moved to sit on the edge, legs dangling on the side of the bed.

"Of course you are," Wilson sarcastically retorted, rounding the bed to help him up only to get his hands slapped away.

Wilson watched in both concern and anger as House, clearly in pain, managed to stand. The moment he let go of the bed rail though, his right leg gave out and he awkwardly repositioned himself back on the bed in a sitting position. His leg screamed in pain and he breathed heavily.

Wilson's fists clenched at his side, fighting the urge to assist his best friend at once. He wanted to reach out to his friend so badly, but he knew House would never accept it.

"You're an ass," Wilson chastised, his voice only breaking a little.

"What, for trying to walk on a freshly mangled leg? Performing surgery on myself? For thinking I could solve my emotional problems with rat medicine? If you're going to nag, at least have the decency to be specific," House snapped, eyes blazing as he waited and braced his ears for Wilson's imminent reply.

Wilson shut up, choosing to not nag for a moment. He watched as House tried to stand again. Without a second thought, knowing he'd only stand to fall again, Wilson chose to help House no matter what blow he'd throw his way.

Surprisingly, House allowed him to support him. House's arm settled around Wilson's shoulder and the good oncologist wrapped his left arm around the expanse of his back, his right hand on House's chest.

"Come on," Wilson told him encouragingly, "Listen to me. You can't keep going like this. Something has to change."

He didn't want to acknowledge that it was the truth so House ignored him.

"Can I pee first?" he asked, smirking at Wilson whose face was mere inches from him.

That reply made Wilson lookintolook into his eyes.

House nodded slightly, finally letting Wilson know that he understood completely.

"I know," he said.

A while later, House let Wilson help him into the bathroom.


	19. XVIII

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company. Parts of the chapter came from season 7 of House's 23rd episode. The plot of that epi's not mine. (: Just borrowed since TPTB didn't bother to give House/Cuddy the chance to grow more, together, like they deserved.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_**Penelope S Cartwright,** you BRILLIANT human, thank you so much for beta and whiteboard services! :)_

**_485 reviews! WOW! You guys are awesomesauce! Thank you so much!_**

**_Hope you're all still with me! Don't worry, we're getting near the reconciliation! But I'll spoil everyone now by saying that it won't be in the next chapter. Well, as far as I know. ;D_**

**_Why don't I liven things up a bit eh? *winks*_**

**_**_MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER, NO SMUT HERE! ;_**)_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XVIII<em>**

.

It was already past two in the afternoon and House finally had time to himself. Wilson wouldn't leave him the hell alone the entire morning until they had lunch together, hell-bent on giving him his "much-needed" lectures. He had left from time to time, tending to some of his patients, but stuck around in House's room when he was free.

Suffice it to say, House's ears were bleeding and all he could remember was what Wilson told him that morning. The only thing Wilson had said to him that day that struck a chord and dug its way and attached itself into his mind.

_You can't keep going like this. Something has to change._

He was unable to stop himself from thinking about Wilson's words ever since that morning.

He agreed with them completely.

It was the reason why he had asked the oncologist to retrieve a few items for him after breakfast. The same items he had given back to Cuddy before he had his lunch with Wilson.

It was also the reason why he had agreed to lunch with Cuddy the next day under the pretense that he'd talk to her about why he had operated on his own leg, in his bathroom, in the middle of the night.

He reached for his laptop and started working on something he knew would somehow change things for the better.

* * *

><p>"Have you talked to him?" Wilson asked Cuddy from his seat on the chair in front of her desk.<p>

Cuddy shook her head, sighing.

"He stood me up. We were supposed to have lunch earlier to talk about why he had to resort to self-surgery to get rid of the tumors."

Wilson ran a hand along his neck, thinking.

"He wasn't trying to kill himself. That's the only thing I'm sure of," he said, looking back at Cuddy.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Wilson."

"He's miserable."

"Tell me something I don't know. We've already talked about our breakup, but each conversation we have just keeps hurting both of us," Cuddy told Wilson almost frustrated with herself.

"I don't know what to tell either of you," Wilson sighed, shaking his head.

"It's going to take time though that's for sure," he added, looking at her sadly.

"He has to talk about things."

"You do know how he feels about that, don't you?" Wilson smirked.

Cuddy's forehead creased.

"He has to. Else he'll be stuck being miserable for the rest of his life."

"You won't get him to talk, Cuddy," Wilson told her.

"I'll figure something out," Cuddy said, taking the folders on her desk and walking out of her office.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three days later…<strong>_

"You should be in the ICU," Cuddy told him dryly. She still hated that he had stood her up for their planned "talk" about his recent actions over lunch.

"The nurses weren't as intensive as I wanted them to be," House quipped, smirking briefly. He limped closer to her desk, reaching into his suit's inside pocket. He pulled out an envelope.

Cuddy watched and waited expectantly for him to speak, hands folded on her lap.

"I only dropped by to deliver this personally," House told her as he set the envelope on the desk in front of her.

Cuddy's eyes narrowed as she eyed the envelope before her.

"What's that?" she asked with a hint of trepidation leaking out of her words no matter how hard she tried to control herself.

"I'm resigning. It's my notice." House cleared, pulling his hand from the desk he had given her not too long ago.

"Why?" It was the only question she could manage to ask.

"I'm sure the Dean of Medicine knows why, go ask her."

"House. Why?"

He didn't speak, just turned to leave.

"You're running." She accused, her voice not cracking from her effort to not make it so. Never had she imagined the hospital— _her life _without House around her.

"You sprinted first." House didn't turn to look at her, fearing that if he did, he might not be able to go through with leaving.

"We still have to talk about your leg," she suddenly said, changing the topic for a while. "You stood me up the day after your surgery."

House sighed.

"Lunch tomorrow, 1:00 PM at the cafeteria. You happy?"

Cuddy nodded once before silence took over them again.

House walked past her but was stopped when he heard her voice call after his retreating form.

"Why?" she asked again, ignoring how her heart sank the more she thought about him leaving the hospital. Her. And Rachel.

"You know why," House quietly whispered, looking into her eyes once more before turning and leaving her office. Her eyes remained trained on him until he was out of sight.

It was for the better, she told herself.

It was for the best, she wanted to believe.

She only hoped that she could talk to him about his leg before he left because he _needed _to talk about it if he truly wanted to change. To make his life better.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you turned in your notice?" Wilson asked incredulously, hands on his hips.<p>

"Well, you see, when one resigns, he must submit—"

"Why?" Wilson opted to ask, knowing House was going to be a jerk about it until he could no longer pretend that what he was doing wasn't a big deal.

"You're resigning because of Cuddy? Come on, House. You're giving up an office created for you just because of a failed relationship?"

"Yes," House answered simply.

"You're unbelievable," Wilson groaned in frustration.

"That's me," House stated, swinging his head to the side as he spoke with faux pride.

"Where will you work then?"

"I have an interview with Princeton General. They still want me," House proudly stated, a half-mocking grin on his face.

"You wouldn't last a week there. They won't let you get away with half the things Cuddy lets you get away with. You're too spoiled."

"Want to bet on it?"

"House."

"Wilson."

"Stay."

"No."

"Stop acting childish. You got your…" Wilson rolled his eyes, "heart broken, I get that. You don't see Cuddy resigning and running away, do you? It's called professionalism and being a grownup. It's about time you learned how to act like one."

"No, it's called 'I'm your boss, _you _quit'…" House defended, his tone slowly getting lower with exasperation.

They'd tried continuing onward, acting professional in spite of their fallout, and that had been working for them, but after what happened last night, House just couldn't handle being around her anymore.

"You're really quitting?" Wilson seriously asked again.

House nodded. "I gave her my notice and resignation letter this morning."

Wilson sighed and ran a hand along his nape.

"You don't have to do this, House."

House nodded in agreement. But he needed to do it if he wanted to be able to breathe freely.

"The deed is done," he said before standing up and exiting Wilson's office. He had to tell his ducklings. It would be fun to see their reaction.

* * *

><p>"I have an announcement to make," House pronounced as he limped into the conference room.<p>

Five sets of eyes turned to him and waited.

"Now I just got nervous," House joked while he pulled out a chair and sat on it.

"Can we get this over with?" Foreman asked impatiently.

"Oh, yes, right," House said, pretending to be snapped out of his thoughts.

"Foreman!" House exclaimed. "You're going to be Head of Diagnostics until Chase gets his shit together and stops sleeping around with any organism willing to have sex with him."

Everyone in the room stared at him in confusion.

House rolled his eyes before turning serious.

"I'm resigning. Turned in my notice and letter this morning," he informed them.

"Why?" Chase and Masters asked him in unison.

"You sleeping with her too?" House asked Chase, eyes squinting suspiciously at the younger doctor.

"No. And stop changing the topic. Why are you resigning?" Chase asked him, unfazed by the accusation.

"This is about Cuddy, isn't it?" Foreman asked somewhat knowingly.

"This is about change," House stated.

"Where will you work?" Masters asked him, her sad face making House want to clobber puppies.

House shrugged. "I can work anywhere I want."

He received multiple scoffs and snorts.

"Hey!" he exclaimed.

Foreman and Taub only rolled their eyes while Masters's face fell even more.

"Maybe I could follow you after I graduate?" she suggested hopefully.

"Preferably not in those clothes," House responded with a smirk. He received a glare for his comment.

"Oh come on, you'll survive. As long as this department still rakes in cash Cuddy won't have it shut down. Besides, you'd get distributed if it does."

House checked his watch before standing up and walking towards the door.

"Got to go—hot nurse is supposed to give me intensive care in a few minutes," he claimed, smirking as he left.

"Do you think he's joking?" Thirteen, who had remained silent for almost the entire announcement, asked.

"About the nurse?" Chase asked wryly.

Thirteen rolled her eyes. "No. About him resigning."

Foreman shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough."

* * *

><p><em><strong>The next day…<br>Hospital cafeteria, 1:05 PM**_

"So," they both started awkwardly, still unable to meet each other's eyes.

Cuddy was first to break the silence.

"Why did I ever ban alcohol from the cafeteria?" she jokingly asked, thinking that she really needed a drink to be able to endure the awkward tension between them, which felt almost tangible.

"Before I forget, there's a brush. Tortoise-shell handle, natural bristles — wasn't in the box. If you could look for it…" she trailed off.

"Like the Lindbergh baby."  
>"We s-should talk about your leg," Cuddy started, meeting his eyes.<p>

Rubbing his face, House told her, "You think I have unresolved issues, and _you_are the unresolved issues." He was getting agitated, she could tell.

"Yes," Cuddy answered, "But it's–it's — I think it's more than that. It's your life, your choices."

"I did it to fix my life. No, wait. No, I did it because I'm a deeply unhappy person," House raised one finger in a "hold on a sec" manner before continuing. "No–no, I did it to get sympathy from you. I did it to piss you off. I did it because I'm not over you. Or I was over you and I was moving on. I did it because I wanted to know what it's like not to be in pain. I did it because I want to feel more pain. Whatever the reason, it was a bad reason and a bad idea. That's all that matters."

"Good lunch," House concluded with a fake cheerfulness in his tone.

As she watched him start limping off, she knew she wouldn't be able to get to him being nice. She took the napkin from her lap and stood to follow him, her temper flaring as she called his name.

"House! Talk to me!" she called out, hot on his heels.

"I already did." House replied, still limping towards the elevators.

"No, you just parroted back what Wilson and I've been saying to you the last few days."

Cuddy moved to block House's way. She looked into his eyes, trying to get through to him.

"Get out of my way," House told her darkly.

He received a firm answer from her.

"No!"

Cuddy caught sight of the blood on his jeans, "Oh, you pulled a stitch." She touched his leg lightly and looked up to meet his frustrated cerulean eyes again.

"House, please just talk to me," she pleaded, her eyes close to misting up. He was about to walk past her as she finished speaking, but she took hold of his arms and tried to make him face her. She was caught off-guard when he exploded and pushed her against the wall behind her. She didn't have time to react because everything happened so fast. She only gasped when the pain ran along her back from the collision against the wall.

"You want to know how I feel?" he asked her loudly, his hand gripping her right arm tightly. As he took in the pain and surprise in her eyes, he tensed and loosened his grip on her. He couldn't believe he had just done what he did.

She was taken aback by his outburst, but bit her lip and waited for him to talk. This had been what she wanted—for him to take his anger out of his system. She wanted him to express his anger and this was it. But it was more than that, she thought as she read his eyes.

He let out two heavy breaths before he spoke quietly and with such emotion that her heart and her eyes stung.

"I feel hurt."

He hated himself for his outburst. He had never physically hurt her. He hated how he had just pushed her against a wall, in the hallway of the busy hospital nonetheless. He dipped his head down, avoiding her eyes.

She could see in his eyes that he was more hurt than angry, and it hurt her. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't. He only lowered his head as she gently pried his hand off her arm and held it between both of hers.

"I know," she softly told him, hating herself for hurting him.

She waited for him to look her in the eyes before she continued.

"I'm sorry," she said with utmost sincerity and guilt in her eyes that his heart ached.

Their eyes stayed glued to each other's for a few seconds as he told her, "It's not your fault."

The feel of her hands enveloping his were comforting, but he had to let go. He gently pulled his hand from hers and walked away, leaving her standing in the hallway, her eyes red-rimmed even though she hadn't cried.

Cuddy stared at the wall before her as he left. Even though he had told her it wasn't her fault, she couldn't help herself from feeling the opposite.

She was the reason why they were both hurting.

She and her indecisiveness and need to be able to control everything in her life.

* * *

><p>House and Wilson were supposed to head straight to a bar Wilson had suggested, but House wanted to drop off Cuddy's brush.<p>

"Want me to come?" Wilson asked him.

"If I get in trouble? I'm delivering a hair brush," House retorted with an annoyed smirk.

As he walked up the path to Cuddy's front door, House stopped as he saw that she wasn't alone.

Normalcy.

It was something he would never be able to give her or Rachel, House thought as he watched Cuddy from a distance, interacting with people in her home.

When they were together, he had wanted nothing more but be who she needed him to be. He had wanted to give her everything he thought she deserved.

He wanted her to be happy.

Even at the cost of reconstructing himself to accommodate her needs and wants. He had tried his damnedest to conform to her wants and needs, but his efforts never were enough.

He'd tried his best until she finally have up on him and let go of them.

After that, he had thought of how things could have been different had he not submitted to some of her demands and just basked in the moments that he had her for himself. If he hadn't worried himself day in and day out that she'd breakup with him over one small mistake.

Everything they'd done together, he remembered every single detail of it. But the most prominent in his memories were the worries he had put himself through in order to please her. He could only remember himself worrying during most of the time he spent with her. Despite it all, he had been happy because he finally had her.

Did she even feel the same?

He knew she loved him, she probably always would. But as he watched her settling an arm on the man she was with, he felt her words were nothing but lies. Once again, he felt like he didn't even know if she even loved him anymore.

He slowly turned, desperate to chase the image of her with another man away from his mind. He could be a friend or a relative, he consoled himself.

He had no right to be jealous, he reminded himself.

But that smile on her face… she had smiled at him like that many times before. So affectionately, he had just seen her smile at a man who was not him.

Words could not define how he felt as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed.

He gripped her brush tightly as he slowly started the painful process of limping back to his car where Wilson sat, looking at him with unadulterated concern in his eyes.

But before he could even reach the stairs that led him to her front step, he heard her front door open and he froze.

His name fell from her lips as he stood frozen in place.

* * *

><p>She was talking to Jerry, the man her sister had been trying, unsuccessfully, to set her up with. He had volunteered to help her with cleaning up the dining table but she gestured for all of them to leave her to it and move into the living room for dessert. As she started picking up the plates, a slight movement from outside caught her eye.<p>

Her eyes immediately latched onto a man whose heart she had mastered in breaking.

An inaudible gasp escaped her lips as she put down the kitchenware in her hand and rushed to the living room, telling her guests to continue their discussion and that she'll just be a while before rushing to the hallway and pulling open her front door.

"House…" she whispered in a mixture of embarrassment and concern as she watched his body freeze. She pulled the door closed behind her and stood there, watching him.

A second later she moved towards him, grasping his biceps gently to stop him from resuming his arduous trek towards his car.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as calmly as she could.

House didn't speak; neither did he turn to look at her. He thrust the brush behind him blindly, waiting for her to claim it.

Cuddy took the brush, thanked him and licked her bottom lip.

"You're welcome," he mumbled.

"I'll see you at work," he suddenly added, taking a step forward. Then another.

On the third step, she called out to him quietly.

"House."

"What?" he asked coldly, snapping his head back to look at her. He turned and grit his teeth in pain when he twisted his leg inappropriately.

"What you saw—"

"Is none of my business."

"It's not what you think. He's—"

"You don't have to make excuses. You're free to move on as quickly as you can. You always do. Just as quick as you left Lucas for me."

"That's not fair, House," Cuddy told him somberly.

"Life's never fair."

"House…"

House turned and, finally, walked back to the car.

She knew he wouldn't hear anything she had to say. Not in the mood he was in. He was too hurt to listen.

She looked at Wilson and their eyes met.

Wilson nodded at her, accepting her wordless request of him to look after their friend for her.

She watched as House drove off, not even sparing a glance her way.

She sighed heavily before going back inside her house.

She sat away from Jerry.

* * *

><p>He'd been stupid to think that Rachel's letter was a sign that things could get better between him and Cuddy.<p>

Rachel wouldn't have added "so we could be friends again" in her letter. Rachel knew they were friends. He knew that had been also knew that, had Rachel known the spelling, 'you' in pirate talk was 'ye'.

He should have known better than to let himself hope.

As he gathered his things in his office and stuck them inside one of the boxes he had brought, he exhaled heavily.

He hated to admit it but he was sure as hell going to miss his office.

His ducklings.

His department and the puzzles it brought him.

Wilson—wait, no. He was going to miss _free lunches_ from Wilson. It won't be the last time they'll see each other—he was only going to leave his job.

He was going to miss Cuddy and Rachel.

It was for the best, a part of him reminded.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: ****Loved, liked, disliked it? Drop a rev if you please to lemme know your thoughts! :)**_

_**Thanks for reading and being patient with me! Uni has been a fun-spoiler as of late! **_


	20. XIX

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company- I wish they didn't.

**_A/N: _**_As always, I would be completely lost without the brilliant** Penelope S Cartwright**! :D Follow her on Twitter, tweeps! LaHuddyAngel87_

****I am a very, very bad writer, I know! *pouts* I apologize for the terrible time it took for me to post this! I'm a 4th year college student taking up a 5-year Engineering degree. I have been unimaginably busy the past few months, dealing with programming, Web-development, software designing and other related courses to even think of writing. I've been dying to write though, DYING. We still have two prototype defenses coming up, so I'm still unable to get hold of a pen or use my keyboard other than for thesis documentation or system analysis and design. *cries*

Anyway, I was able to finish this up and have decided to post it since you guys are all probably tired of waiting (hopefully not!). After next week, I might finally be able to sit down for long hours on end and continue The Greatest Upheaval ch 2 and Absence 43! You guys still want updates on those? *smiles* I hope you do because I'm sure as hell not finished with them yet! So please bear with me until this crazy semester ends!

**_Hope you guys forgive me with this long and important chapter. Pretty please? *bats eyelashes*_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XIX<em>**

.

With her feet tapping against the wooden floor of Arlene Cuddy's residence, Cuddy waited for her mother to get to the door.

It was already past eight in the evening. Julia, her husband, and Jerry had left around four and she was left to clean up and think of House's unexpected visit.

The idea of going to House's apartment crossed her mind, but she shot it down upon remembering the cacophony of emotions that had overtaken him and his features. He would not hear her out. The stubborn part of her reminded her that she did not need to justify what he had seen. True, she was free to move on. She was free to date as soon as she felt she was ready. But the part of her, that huge part of her which was still in love with him, made her feel like giving in to her sister's meddling had been a mistake. At one time, forcing herself to just move on and be ready would have worked. But this time, she was more than certain it wouldn't. She just wasn't ready. And as the days went by, she felt like she never would be because she didn't really want to move on.

"What brings you here at this time?" Arlene suspiciously greeted as she took in the sight of her daughter.

Cuddy smirked and greeted her mother, "Hi, Mom."

"Is Rachel asleep?" she asked as her mother stepped aside and pulled the door open wider to let her in.

"Not yet," Arlene answered as she closed the door behind her.

"How are you?" Cuddy asked her, sitting on the couch and placing her hands on her lap.

"Peachy," Cuddy's mother replied with a smirk. "You?" she asked in return, "I heard Julia's been trying to set you up with someone." One eyebrow rose. "How did that go?"

Cuddy let out a small snort, shaking her head.

"Horrible."

"Compared to House?" Arlene curiously inquired, ignoring the look her daughter sent her way.

Cuddy sighed. "He's nicer, of course," she chose to say.

"But he's not House?" Arlene prompted, still harboring hope that her daughter could still be swayed. House was a lot of things, some she disapproved of, but she was more than certain that he was her daughter's true other half. She didn't really believe in such things, but she believed that her daughter and that schmuck were made for one another.

"He's not House," Cuddy nodded.

"Speaking of my not-son-in-law," Arlene dramatically started, moving to sit on the chair across her daughter, "How are things between the two of you?"

"Mom."

Smirking, Arlene stood up and announced, "I'll get us some wine."

"Mom, I'm driving," Cuddy reminded her.

"A few sips will do you good," Arlene waved her hand in a flourish, exiting the living room to get them a glass each.

"Mama!" Rachel scurried out of her mother's room, running into Cuddy whose arms opened for her as soon as she saw her.

"You here!" Rachel exclaimed happily as she pulled away from their embrace.

Cuddy smiled brightly, brushing away hair from her daughter's face. "Hi, baby," she greeted Rachel, pulling her up so she could sit on her lap. "Did you have fun with Grandma?" she asked, hugging Rachel to her chest.

Rachel nodded, leaning back against her mother.

"Go play or watch in my room for a while, sweetie," Arlene told her granddaughter warmly. "Mommy and I have to talk about boring grown-up stuff," she added, knowing the face her granddaughter would make.

Rachel slid from Cuddy's lap with a giggle before walking to her Grandma's room.

Arlene handed Cuddy a glass of wine, smiling mischievously.

"A few sips won't hurt," she shrugged.

Leering at the proffered glass, Cuddy took it gingerly.

Scoffing, Arlene scolded her and said, "Oh get over yourself. It's not drugged."

Cuddy rolled her eyes in exasperation. She took one hearty sip; she had forgotten how good her mother's taste in wine was. She let the wine linger in her mouth, savoring the flavor before swallowing. She sighed.

"We're like… the weather," she stated, eyes turning to meet her mother's.

"Don't go poetic on me, Lisa. You only had one sip; save it for when you're drunk," Arlene smirked, glass of wine in her hand.

"Still haven't considered trying again?" Arlene inquired curiously after a short silence, taking a sip of her wine as well. Seriously, her daughter's relationship with House was the only one she ever became interested in. Every other man Lisa had introduced before were easily forgettable. Well, Lucas was a bit unforgettable—the man-child was a pushover.

Being honest with herself and her mother, Cuddy quietly answered.

"Lately, yes," she said, mindlessly taking another sip.

Smiling to herself, Arlene asked her seriously, "So what's your plan?"

Biting her lower lip before clicking her tongue, Cuddy shrugged, saying, "I don't know. He saw us earlier. He thought I started dating again. He even accused me of moving on too fast."

Arlene's perfectly plucked eyebrow rose. "Julia's friend?" she asked, taking another sip.

Cuddy bobbed her eyebrows once in confirmation, lips thinning as they wrapped around the glass's rim, ready to take a gulp.

"House tendered his resignation. He's leaving the hospital," Cuddy revealed. She was about to take another swig of wine, but not a drop of liquid met her lips.

Arlene smiled slightly, standing. "I'll get the bottle. It's going to be a long night. Just leave early tomorrow," she said, heading to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of wine.

Cuddy sighed heavily, eyes trailing after her mother. She was too tired and her thoughts too occupied by what to do about a certain blue eyed medical maverick to argue.

Less than a minute later, Arlene returned with the bottle and filled Cuddy's glass halfway full.

"What did you do?" Arlene asked. Cuddy shot Arlene a look. "Well, he won't be leaving if nothing happened. Tell me I'm wrong." He could have left then, but didn't. Why would he choose to leave now?

"We slept together," Cuddy divulged, "And I left the morning after. He came to see me at work, giving me a chance to make up an excuse, but I didn't take it. I apologized instead."

Arlene Cuddy rarely got surprised, but with her daughter's revelation, she was.

"You're an idiot. Why on God's name would you do that?" Arlene asked her in shock, sitting up on the chair.

"We were both emotional and vulnerable, Mom. And it wouldn't have been fair," Cuddy excused lamely.

"Well, it obviously wasn't fair for him," Arlene stated with a disappointed huff.

"Do you want him to leave?" she asked and added as an afterthought, "Not as his boss. I don't care about your hospital or Greg being one of its greatest assets."

Cuddy took a sip from the glass, biting her lip after she swallowed. She took a deep breath before honestly saying, "No."

"Then _talk_ to him," Arlene insisted. It was rare for her to give advice before chastising her daughter. Usually it was the other way around, but she had too much on her plate already—Arlene decided to cut her some slack.

"He won't listen," Cuddy negated.

Arlene rolled her eyes. "Make him listen. You always figured out a way."

"Mom…" she drew a breath, "I've been too hard on him. He's already asked me two times before whether we could try again. Two times. Not to mention my disappearance the morning after I slept with him. It's just… too hypocritical to approach him now. It's too late. I ruined everything."

Cuddy emptied the glass before setting it down on the coffee table in front of them. She ran a hand down her face, angry at herself and her indecisiveness.

"Un-ruin it." Arlene's voice was stern. Her daughter was never at a loss for what to do. "Would you rather be a hypocrite for a while and then be happy in the long run, or would you rather stay miserable for the rest of your life?"

Cuddy stared at her mother before burying her face in between her hands.

Arlene let out a breath before emptying her own glass as well. She filled their glasses with more wine while she waited for her daughter to compose herself.

A while later, Cuddy resurfaced from in between her palms. She looked miserably at her mother.

"I don't know what to do."

"Do you want him back?"

"I shouldn't. But I do."

Arlene raised the glass. "If you're still waiting for the right one or a guy who challenges you yet still controllable, I say you're going to be out of luck."

"If I go back to House?"

Arlene shrugged, "You'll be with the most perfectly imperfect man who, apparently, is also the most incredible and incorrigible man I have had both the pleasure and displeasure of meeting." Arlene smiled slightly.

"You'll be happy," Arlene said, "Because House makes you and Rachel happy." No matter how hard she has always pushed her daughter, it was always because she only wanted what was best for her. What kind of mother doesn't want her child to be happy?

After a moment though, Arlene seriously reminded her daughter, "Lisa… every relationship has its downside. House is a very flawed man. He has his issues—who doesn't? You have to work on those issues together. Because you just can't wait for things to go wrong and then give up when they do."

Cuddy smiled sadly at her mother, thanking her as she reached for her glass.

"But Lisa…" Arlene started, wanting her daughter's attention back, "If you do try to get House back, be sure it really is what you want. Don't drive him away any farther. He's a handful, but he's actually a mensch."

Cuddy nodded in understanding, knowing that she still had a lot to think about once she got home.

Knowing that the coming week was going to be a tedious one, Cuddy relaxed into the couch with a glass of wine, catching up with her mother. The only thing she was partly curious about was the board members' reactions to House having tendered his resignation. Would they be thankful or would they be concerned? House's department raked in a good deal of money for the hospital.

Surprisingly, despite a few barbs on her mother's part, it had actually ended up to be a nice evening.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday, 5 AM<strong>_

"Mommy?" Rachel pushed her mother's bedroom door open gently, checking if she was inside. She was strangling one big yellow duck under one arm, the other hand coming to rub at her eyes sleepily.

Cuddy stirred in bed, turning to look at Rachel standing a few feet away from her.

"Rachel, why are you still up?" she asked sleepily, pulling the duvet to invite Rachel in.

Rachel walked towards the bed. She plopped the big stuffed duck on the bed before she climbed in and joined her mother. She grabbed hold of the duck and set it beside her, tucking it in as well.

Cuddy pulled Rachel against her, burying her nose in her hair, loving the scent of her daughter and the baby shampoo.

"I love you, Rachel," she found herself saying sweetly, eyes closed. Sometimes, she still couldn't believe she had her. She was lucky to have her in her life. She gave her a purpose. She made everything she did worth it.

Rachel turned in her mother's embrace and grinned, stuffed duck forgotten. Rachel gently toyed with a few stray curls framing Cuddy's face. "Love you too, Momma," she whispered, planting a wet one on Cuddy's cheek.

Cuddy grimaced theatrically before her lips thinned into a wide smile upon hearing Rachel's giggle.

She would always long for someone to raise her with, Cuddy thought as she took in her daughter's young cherubic face. But as long as she had Rachel, she was going to be all right. She would always wish she could give her daughter someone to call her father, or at least a father figure. But if that never came to be, she has been and will always be more than committed to giving Rachel everything she needed and deserved.

"Mommy?"

"Go sleep, baby," she murmured, nuzzling her daughter's soft hair.

Rachel closed her eyes, but sleep didn't return for her soon enough. Her eyes opened again.

"Mommy?"

Cuddy's eyes opened and she exhaled through her nose.

"Yes, Rachel?" she asked, torn between listening and closing her eyes again. She was so sleepy. But she knew being a mother was a 24/7 lifetime gig. And the sooner she answered whatever question Rachel was to throw at her next, the sooner they could go back to sleep.

"Why Hows don't come to play anymore?" she asked sulkily, missing her bloody scallywag.

Cuddy closed her eyes for a while, wishing the high heavens for strength and wisdom to answer her daughter's question. Pretending to have fallen asleep again probably would have been better.

"Well," she started, eyes opening and looking straight into Rachel's. She stroked her daughter's cherubic face. "House is very busy right now. He has a lot of work, like Mommy, so he can't play with you," she said, heart shrinking at the sad face her daughter made.

"Why don't we make pancakes later?" Cuddy said after a while of pouting from Rachel. The idea made her daughter smile and nod. "Okay? Let's do that later. For now," she smiled, pulling Rachel against her and playfully squeezing her daughter, "let's go back to sleep."

"Okay," Rachel acquiesced, much to Cuddy's gratitude.

Rachel almost immediately fell back to sleep in her mother's embrace.

However, Cuddy couldn't.

She lay awake until it was time to make pancakes.

* * *

><p>Cuddy and Rachel spent their Sunday together, just the two of them.<p>

They had made pancakes for breakfast and Cuddy had prepared baked macaroni and cheese for Rachel then a salad for herself for lunch.

It was almost dinner time and Cuddy looked at her daughter nestled against her side, running her fingers through her hair as she watched Tom and Jerry—which, surprisingly, she actually preferred over Dora the Explorer.

"What if we order pizza for dinner?" she asked her daughter, catching her attention with the word 'pizza'.

Rachel grinned widely as she nodded her approval of Mom's plan.

Cuddy reached for the phone, dialing the pizza place she and House always ordered from.

"Pep-er-own-iii, for Hows'an Rachel!" Rachel suddenly chanted lips puckering as she enunciated the topping. Chuckling, she added, "Estra cheese, powr pafor!"

Cuddy rolled her eyes, a smile almost painting her lips. Damn House and his theatrics. Her daughter had started to learn Spanish at age three, under—before they broke up—constant Houseian babysitting?

Shocker.

"'Por favor', sweetie," Cuddy corrected anyway. She didn't speak much Spanish—barely even knew more than fifteen to twenty words. At least she could help her daughter with that small thing.

She ordered their pizza, glad that Rachel had only mentioned House once.

Cuddy was still at a loss as to what she should do. Should she stop him from leaving?

As the Hospital Administrator and Dean of Medicine, she knew she should. He was a lot of negative things, but the positivity of his presence in the hospital bested those negative things even if his malpractice suits cost them a fortune. Besides, quite a number of the board would be concerned about the budget cut they would hit once word of House's resignation (or whatever they'd downgrade his absence's reasons to) spread. House's department had long contributed to the money making Princeton Plainsboro run.

House was leaving because of something personal. It was what she hated. They had always been able to look past their fights and work in the same place with a great sense of professionalism.

But every moment she unintentionally reminded herself of the reason he was leaving, her lips pursed and her chest tightened the slightest bit.

She should never have left.

She wondered if what she was feeling at that moment, staring blankly at the screen before her, was what he had felt before he had asked her that first time. That first time he asked her for a second chance.

It struck her, feeling a sense of doubt. She had always been adamant about the fact that she didn't regret breaking up with him and that she deserved to do so. But as the months and weeks had dragged on; after her mother unearthed the ring, after House kept being accommodating, caring, gentle and nice to Rachel, after forgiving her time and time again by giving her a chance and reasons to take him back, and after he'd eventually accepted her 'ultimate' decision, she finally felt that slightest hint of regret creep into her being. She would never regret breaking up with him because she still believed that she had not been overreacting when she ended it. But she regretted not even trying to fix things between them afterwards.

She regretted leading him on, continuously tying him into her and Rachel's lives both intentionally and unintentionally.

That thought made her shake her head in disappointment at herself. She sounded like she used him.

As her eyes moved down to fix her gaze on the carpet, she thought of the next logical step—or steps.

Stop him from leaving the hospital?

It hurt her to think that she had come in between him and his puzzles. If he were to actually head a Diagnostic Department at Princeton General (they were actually willing to create a department for him), he wouldn't get away with half of the things she let him get away with. But she supposed that she had pushed him past his limit. House would only leave because he's had enough. He had always been able to draw his walls and guard up as high as he possibly could. That was why she hadn't actually anticipated or even accepted the idea of him having had enough and actually deciding to resign. She expected him to just withdraw from her, Wilson and everyone else and drown himself in the only things he truly lived for—the puzzles and the medicine.

Stopping him from leaving was the only thing she could think of.

The thought of herself approaching him and asking him for another chance made her frown. It felt too hypocritical. Too… _wrong_.

Did she really want—_deserve_, even—that chance? Would he even give her it? Could she get past things she just couldn't change in him and love him back without expecting him to change entirely and solely for her?

She was too confused to think of the answer.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Two Weeks Later, PPTH<br>3:00 PM**_

Two weeks had gone by, but neither House nor Cuddy had approached each other. He was thankful she wasn't forcing a conversation between them. She was avoiding him, trying to clear her mind, and asking herself what it was she really wanted.

It was neither a power play nor a ploy, but Cuddy felt it was.

A part of her thought that if it indeed was, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him she was affected no matter how much she truly was. She didn't want to give in to him and come running to him to bid him goodbye and good luck just as any normal boss would. However, the love ridden part of her didn't believe it was just House being House. That part of her still in love with him didn't think he was avoiding her because he wanted her to approach him first.

He had resigned. He was really leaving. It was as simple as that.

She had always believed they knew how to be grown-ups and professionals. A failed relationship hadn't put much of a strain on their employer-employee relationship before. But their failed attempt at reconciliation during and after that night Cuddy had wished she never left his side, struck down and secured the final nail in the coffin.

She had led him on. She had told him he could change things by admitting to her the truth behind his Vicodin slip. She told him that he could change things between them if he would only tell her the truth and help her understand his reasons.

She had strung him along, giving him all of her once more only to discard him upon the mistake's realization. She had hurt him as bad and as deep as that night she left him with his misery and his pills.

He was leaving.

She watched him from a distance, the only time she could set eyes on him without him noticing after they had broken up. He had packed everything that belonged to him two weeks ago, carrying boxes home for three days.

She took in his office and the lack of things that were classified as 'Houseian' in what was practically a bare room. His oversized tennis ball wasn't on his desk either. He had also brought home that ball of rubber bands she'd used to play and fiddle with whenever she had to ponder on something.

She thought about how wrong it would feel, how incomplete and lacking it would be without his unconventional practice, incredible intellect, admirable genius, and dedication running and wreaking havoc throughout the hospital.

The members of the board had been very curious as to the sudden resignation. Some were thankful, a great number of them thought it a waste since he really did pull in a lot of money and donations for the hospital.

Cuddy sighed, tracing his movements from where she stood.

No more banter, no more stolen glances (hopeful, tentative ones before they got together; regret-filled and hurt ones after they had separated) from across the receptionist's desk, the nurse's stations, or even the clinic's front desk.

No more requests for insane procedures, no more hiding from clinic hours or trading them for a "lighter sentence," and no more hiding in the morgue or the coma patients' rooms and stealing their things.

To both of them, they were as unfixable as a failing heart. And they believed they had missed their chances, wasted their time denying another try would do more harm than good to them. They had poisoned their own thoughts with misery, hurting themselves in the process, and unintentionally hurting Rachel along the way.

It was the last day she would see him there, whiteboard marker in hand, listing down and scratching out symptoms from their list. It would be the last time she would see his eyebrows draw together, deep in thought.

It was also the last time she would see his eyes light up upon having an epiphany.

The last time she would see him quickly limp out of the conference room, his team hot on his heels.

She had barely backed out of his line of sight when he'd stepped out of the glass door and caught her glassy eyes.

The world stopped turning as stormy sapphire eyes landed on cerulean seas.

No words were whispered, no words were thought. They just fixed their gazes upon one another's eyes.

Almost as soon as their eyes met he looked away as if his brain suddenly reminded him out loud that he had discovered his patient's illness and that he had to drop by as fast as he could and tell the man how stupid he was and heal him before he died.

Multiple sets of eyes turned her way, suspicious and studying, before they followed the brilliant diagnostician.

She hadn't intended for them to see each other. She had only wanted to see him one last time before he left.

Briefly she wondered whether what had just happened would be the final moment they were going to have between them for a long time. A meeting without words or thoughts for their eyes said everything needed to be said; expressed things and doubts and regrets they could barely acknowledge to themselves. Would the last time they saw each other be nothing but an exchange of looks that said they wished they could have done things better?

As she turned on her heel in a daze, she realized that she didn't want him to go and that she wanted to be with him still.

She didn't want it to be over.

She didn't want him to be forced to leave for what she had done out of fear. She didn't want to be away from him or everything about him she both loved and hated. She just wanted to be with him. She needed to be with him. Otherwise, she'd always feel that void within her that only he would ever be able to fill.

Nonetheless, the problem remained. She couldn't even begin to think of a way to let him know how she truly felt when she had spent weeks and weeks of telling him that she couldn't give him that chance she now wanted—that he could never be the man she needed.

She sighed heavily as she waited for the elevator to arrive at the fourth floor.

When it took too long, she walked towards the fire escape and pulled the door open.

Instead of starting her high-heeled trek back down to her office, she sat on the third step and leant backwards on the concrete wall.

She stared fixatedly at the floor number painted on the wall.

How could she have screwed things up beyond repair?

It took her a long while before she was able to go back to her office unaware that behind the door two to three feet from where she sat stood a blue-eyed diagnostician, shoulders slumped, thinking of whether or not to step inside and say the goodbye he truly didn't want to say.

He turned and walked away after a few minutes, unable to bid her farewell and believing that nothing he'd say or do would ever make her change her mind.

She stood up from where she sat and did what she had trained herself to do more than half of her life. She stood tall, dust herself off, and made her way back to her office to busy herself with things she had control and power over. She also had to take her mind off of things.

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:00 PM<strong>_

House had been trying to muster up the strength to say goodbye to his boss for almost a week already. Three hours earlier, he was ready to say goodbye, but he left her alone in the fire exit thinking she needed time to herself.

Talking to her was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to see her once more before he left. He had to say goodbye, otherwise, he'd never be able to try and move on.

Hesitance and nerves grappled him like a well-trained wrestler, trying to keep him from taking another step further towards the doors to her office.

A part of him was egging him on, telling him to just get it over with. Like ripping off a band aid, it said. The sooner he went in there, the sooner he could force himself to forget her and his inadequacies.

He thought of the weight that would be taken off his chest once he was done with this. He thought of the opportunities waiting for him outside Plainsboro's walls. He wasn't an optimist, but his desperation in trying to find some semblance of peace she had taken with her when she left him forced him to hope there was something out there for him. Not _someone_, just… something. He doubted the chance of him ever meeting someone else that could even come close to her.

To him, Cuddy would always be the stunning and, inexplicably, mind-blowingly perfectly imperfect woman he may have always loved from the moment they met.

She had her crazy, incorrigible moments—moments when he wanted to just sedate her like he had her mother (though he would never do that to her). Along with her crazy, she also had her moments when she made him doubt whether him being around was good for her and Rachel. There were times when she was too nice to him, too sweet, too kind, that he just couldn't understand why she chose him.

Why she loved _him_.

Up until that moment, as he stood from a distance watching her pace in her office, he still wondered why she chose to love him when she could have loved another—someone better.

He dismissed the thought when his heart wished for him to just leave that mystery unanswered.

He may never know the answer, but he would always be thankful and honored to have once been loved by her. She may still love him, but he didn't think it mattered anymore. Not when they have decided it was over—that a relationship between them can never survive or even thrive. It was over. Neither of them thought they could rekindle the flame and set one another ablaze with passion and love once again. They both thought they had destroyed everything good between them and that there was just simply no going back.

Every day he would wish he could have tried harder to gain her trust and win her heart once more. Every waking moment he would wish he could have had her beside him, arm slung around her. Every day he would regret not having done better. That would be another cross for him to bear.

From the start, he was never good enough. He would never be good enough. He would always be haunted by his ghosts, always suffocated by his fears.

Given the chance, he didn't think he would have been able to have done things differently—handled her crisis any other way, but it didn't keep him from wishing he had. Because then, there was a chance they wouldn't be apart and that he wouldn't need to say goodbye to her now.

Had he been the man he was before Mayfield, he would have said this didn't matter even if it was eating him up inside. But he wasn't that man—at least not entirely the same one. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he had, in fact, changed. Truth be told, he was glad.

This mattered. It mattered a great deal to him. He needed her in his life, but he would never force her to be with him if it wasn't what she wanted. He could not deny the hurt he was feeling. Unlike the man before Mayfield, he would say out loud that it hurt, that _he _hurt. He was in pain not only physically, but also emotionally. He wasn't putting any more walls up. Admittedly, he would tell Wilson he wasn't okay. He wasn't okay, but he had to be.

He was done with the alcohol binge. He was finished with his self-destructive ways. He was fed up and disgusted by the hookers he had paid to numb his pain.

For once in his life, House knew he had to turn over a new leaf.

Either he moved on or he died trying.

One of the things he could thank Cuddy for was letting him realize that he didn't want to go back to what he was before. His past scared him, it _terrified _him—the Vicodin, the hallucinations and delusions, the hookers, the misery. It served to remind him of what he had escaped and what he could still go back to. His mind was all he had left; the past few weeks reminded him of that. Losing it would undo him once again and he was afraid of not being able to recover.

He was caught, unaware that he had frozen in front of the first set of doors to her office until she opened them only to see him standing rooted to his spot.

He shook himself internally, clearing his thoughts for the time being.

She looked confused, he noted, probably thinking about the reason he had been standing in front of her office door for a long while. Had it been long? It seemed only seconds to him.

"Hi," she greeted softly, confusion still evident in her tone. He refused to acknowledge the hint of hope that had spilled from her tongue along with her greeting.

"Got a minute?" he chose to ask instead. He followed her into the office when she nodded and turned, and shut the second set of doors behind him.

They stood awkwardly for a quiet minute, as if waiting for the other to start. Cuddy moved to stand behind her desk, needing the strength her position and authority gave her. She waited for him to speak, noticing that he seemed to be gathering himself for what he was about to say.

She hoped he had come to say he was staying, but she knew that was not the case. She wished he'd stay, but she couldn't blame him for wanting to go. Besides, she hadn't even tried to stop him—she had only asked why he was leaving despite knowing the answer to her own question.

A few more seconds later which felt like a lifetime, he lifted his gaze from her desk and looked straight into her eyes.

"Stay," she wanted to say, but the word died in her mind before it could even reach her tongue.

She watched him swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. She dreaded his coming words already.

"I just came to say goodbye."

Six words had never shattered her heart as much as his had at that moment.

She swayed the slightest bit, as if slapped by the weight of his words and the reality of their situation. One hand went to settle on her desk. She had to steady herself.

Tears were on their way to sting her eyes but she pushed them back.

In a last attempt to keep him, she asked quietly, "Can't you stay?"

He shook his head, making her lower hers.

"Good luck with Princeton General," she stated in defeat, forcing the sincerest of smiles to rest on her lips. She really did wish the best for him. She always had. His happiness and well-being mattered greatly to her.

"Thank you," he replied with a curt nod.

"Was that all?" she asked quietly. She wanted to drown in his eyes more, remind herself that she had pushed him away and that she didn't deserve to feel sad or even cry, but she also needed to be far from him at that moment. The longer he stayed the more she yearned to be back in his arms. And that would only serve to remind her of the reasons they couldn't come together for another chance.

"Yeah," he said.

Knowing she needed to say it for both of them, Cuddy whispered, "Goodbye, House."

He lifted his head to meet her stunning eyes. It tore him apart to see the sadness she tried to hide. He could only hope she couldn't see the sadness and defeat in his.

"Goodbye, Cuddy," he replied, disappointed that the weight on his chest didn't let up. He hoped with everything he had that it would, soon.

He turned on his heel reluctantly after one last glance at her.

Halfway towards the doors, she called out to him.

"Are you leaving because of us?" she asked him quietly, looking into his eyes so as not to miss even a sliver of hope skitter through those beautiful orbs.

Instead of lying to her, House replied just as quietly.

"It's getting…" he turned quiet for not more than two seconds, thinking of the appropriate word, "suffocating."

It sounded melodramatic, but it was the truth. Being around her these days only served to hurt him further. He had decided to leave the hospital so he wouldn't have the chance to resent her. He was not good with emotions, he never had been. Whenever he was hurt, he almost always took it out on the root of it and fostered the anger within him. The anger would allow him to separate himself from his real feelings until they eventually became part of the past and replaced with contempt. Contempt and anger he can control. Hurt, he couldn't.

"We've always managed to find—"

"There is no other way, Cuddy!" he suddenly snapped at her, taking her off guard.

House sighed heavily, frustrated. "If I stay here, I won't be able to sit still and just go on with my life. Seeing you would only make me resent you. I don't want that," he told her honestly, looking straight into her soul as he spoke. He didn't include another reason. Once she was ready to move on from him, he didn't want to be around to see who the next guy would be.

"You told me you didn't think I could do better. I _can_," he stressed.

"I know you can," she agreed with him, hating herself for having told him otherwise.

"Bullshit," he called, eyes steeling.

She moved from behind her source of power and walked towards him, making herself vulnerable and open. It was the least she could do for him opening up on what he was feeling.

"I thought… maybe if I was far from you, I'd be able to prove you wrong," he silently said, thinking of how stupid it sounded. "I _can _do better," he repeated, this time as if convincing himself.

She tentatively placed her palm against his chest, feeling it beating rapidly.

"I know," she murmured softly, sincerely.

It broke his heart all over to see her lips quiver the slightest when his hand clasped the one she had atop his heart.

"You don't," he shook his head.

"House, I—"

He pulled her hand from his chest, dropping it gently back to her side.

Her eyes stung, aching to shed tears, but she fought against the dam about to break.

"Stay," she said, grasping his biceps with a hand almost desperately.

"I told you, I can't." He said, refusing to see the look in her eyes. If he was the old House, he would have reveled in the hurt certainly radiating from her stunning eyes.

It was her turn to call him out.

"Bullshit."

"You can't? Or you just don't want to?" she challenged him, gearing up for an argument she hoped would convince him to stay.

"Why would I want to stay?" he snapped at her, his voice a dangerous hiss. He pulled his arm from her grasp, but her grip turned hard. "Tell me!" he shouted in a controlled voice, not wanting people who had no business in their affairs to poke their noses in his and Cuddy's current fight. "After _everything_," he took a deep breath, "you expect me to just lie down and take it all?"

"He's House, he'll be fine," he mimicked her.

"That's not…" Cuddy inhaled sharply, ready to bite back, but knowing it wouldn't lead to anything good.

"I just thought… we could—"

Once more House cut her off; fighting every bit of love he had for her to not soften himself just to get hurt again.

"We c_an't_. It's _over_. I got the message every single time you told me," he stated bitterly.

Their eyes locked; cerulean on sapphire.

"I don't want it to be over," she finally divulged, loosening her grasp on his arm before letting go reluctantly. She didn't know whether he'd appreciate her touching him with that revelation.

He hated her for telling him that. He was ready to leave; ready to take his wounded pride and broken heart with him just so the two of them could start a new leaf without one another.

She was waiting for him to laugh, waiting for him to tell her just how pathetic she was.

"Well, it is…" he chose to say. Every fiber of his being wanted to be with her again. But he didn't trust her enough to come running back into her arms again. She could still be pondering whether it was right or wrong. She could tell him it was a mistake before he even batted an eyelid. "You couldn't have made it clearer."

"I want you back," she said, her eyes almost brimming with unreleased tears, "In this hospital. In my life and Rachel's."

He shook his head.

"I was wrong," her voice broke.

House looked at her somberly and said, "You were _right_. You had reason to leave me."

"I have more reason to be with you…" she trailed off, suddenly blown by the emotions bubbling inside her and waiting to explode. Her heart was heavy, both from the liberation of having finally expressed what she truly wanted and needed, and from the fear of not being able to succeed in her mission.

After a moment, it was House who initiated contact. He tentatively, almost hesitantly, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her trembling frame.

"I love you," she said, tears finally escaping her eyes. It took a while for her arms to be able to wrap themselves around him as well.

"It's too late, Cuddy," he told her regretfully.

"It's not," she whined almost childishly, not wanting to accept that it was too late. "It's not," she repeated, shaking her head against the crook of his neck.

She couldn't lose him.

Not again, never again.

"House," she whimpered uncharacteristically, shaking him from his thoughts.

"I'll just hurt you again," he reasoned.

"We'll both hurt one another," she countered.

"I can't, Cuddy. Not today… not tomorrow, when you could just as easily change your mind again," he confided his fear, ingraining the scent of her hair for what he thought would be the last time in a long time into his memory.

"I won't," she promised almost immediately.

"You might."

"I have to go," House said after a while, letting go of her a great effort to exert.

"Don't," she practically begged in defeat.

He left without answering her, knowing that the longer he stayed the easier it would be to give in to what they both truly wanted.

"House!" she called out to him in vain as he stepped out of the first pair of doors.

He didn't turn back.

* * *

><p>He exited through the automatic sliding doors in the hospital's entrance and saw Wilson.<p>

"You okay?" Wilson asked him, standing, waiting for him.

House nodded curtly. "Yup."

"You acted like a grown up," Wilson wanted to comment, but chose to say, "I'm proud of you."

House smirked. If he only knew what happened in the dragoness' lair.

"Let's just go."

"Want to get a drink?" Wilson asked him.

"One glass."

Wilson arched a brow.

"Got an interview tomorrow morning."

"PG?"

House bobbed two eyebrows as he and Wilson started walking to where Wilson's silver Volvo was parked.

Feeling he had to ask, Wilson turned to House, inquiring him seriously, "How are you?"

Noting the concern (which most of the time annoyed him) in Wilson's voice, House chose to answer honestly instead of deflecting.

"Coping."

"I'm here if you need me," Wilson offered with the smallest of smiles.

"I really am proud of you, House. You handled it well."

House simply nodded in thanks.

"You're going to be okay," Wilson reassured, patting House on the back once before walking to the driver's side.

House turned to glance at Princeton Plainsboro one more time.

He could have stayed. He could have met her halfway. But he was done giving in to impulses. It always led him and Cuddy down a chaotic path.

"She wanted me back," House aimlessly said, staring outside the window as Wilson started driving towards the exit.

Stepping on the brake pedal, Wilson whipped his head to look at House aghast.

"What?" House and Wilson exclaimed in unison; the former from the sudden almost-faceplant he had with the car's dashboard and the latter from the shock over the revelation.

"She wanted you back?" Wilson inquired, still in shock. House nodded.

"I guess you told her no." Wilson deduced. "You're an idiot. Why would you turn her down? You've been waiting for months! Months, just to see if she would eventually give you that chance! You turned her down when she does? Were you just screwing with her? Was this part of some diabolical revenge scheme you had? I couldn't even—"

"Wilson!" House suddenly yelled, stopping his best friend's blind tirade.

"What?" Wilson's face was flushed with anger.

"You're blocking the way. Move. I'll talk." House assured him, trying his best to make himself comfortable in the car.

Ten minutes of silence went by and House had yet to talk.

"House… why did you shoot her down?" Wilson quietly asked as calmly as he could.

Silence ensued once more.

"House, I swear—"

"I'm afraid she'd change her mind, again."

"We've come together so many times while we were emotional… it always ends up messy. I didn't want that."

House sighed, eyes on the car in front of them as he said, "I told her I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Will you be able to forgive her?"

"I already have."

A cloud of silence hung above them.

"What else did she tell you?" Wilson asked.

"I reminded her that she left me for a reason." House told him.

"And?"

"She told me she had more reason to be with me."

House sighed. What was so goddamn frustrating about that encounter was that it had been what he had longed for, for so long, but something in him refused to give in to her. It wasn't him being a bastard or some smug ass whose vendetta was to act like he wanted her back when all he really wanted was to make her feel what he'd felt, pining for her and asking her to take him back.

"What's stopping you then? That fear you're talking about?" Wilson asked in a slight derisive tone.

"It's a legitimate reason," House defended. In his mind, it really was. She had turned him down so many times. She gave into him _once _and then left him the morning after, implying it was a mistake.

Wilson snorted, "Yeah. You could have been having reconciliatory sex with Cuddy in her office right now, yet you're here with me because you were _scared."_

House smirked for the fraction of a second.

"Seriously, House…" Wilson started, glancing at him once before refocusing on the road ahead. "What are you afraid of?"

"I already told you." House answered him.

"So… that's it? You're afraid she'll leave you again?" Wilson confirmed in slight disbelief. He parked the car in the first vacant spot he spotted.

When House nodded, Wilson told him, "Because that has to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

House was about to reply, but Wilson held a hand up to stop him.

"If you let that fear of yours stand in the way of being happy again then why did you even ask her back those first two times? You're already sabotaging something that hasn't even started yet."

Wilson sighed, his voice toning down, "You've been waiting for Cuddy to give you that second chance for months and weeks on end. Now she's asking _you _to give her the same chance you've been asking for. Why are you letting your fear of getting hurt stop you from getting what you've wanted for so long?"

"Because she has no idea what she wants!" House answered him honestly, snapping, before getting out of the car and walking into the bar without waiting for Wilson to get out of the Volvo.

Wilson sighed and watched as House made his way to the bar.

"Maybe this time she does?" Wilson suggested as soon as he sat down next to House on the barstool.

House snorted, taking a swig of the beer he had chosen. He would've gone for whiskey, but he remembered his interview for the next day.

"I love her," House whispered freely, "but I hate her indecisiveness." He hated how she could go from not wanting him to wanting him in a heartbeat. He wouldn't let her love him again, all the while wishing she didn't. He knew it wouldn't work that way the second time around. He shouldn't let it. That's why he shot her down.

Wilson agreed with that—he hated Cuddy's constant indecisiveness as well.

"I need her to be sure," House told Wilson, looking at his best friend. "I'm not sabotaging what could be—I'm saving it." He won't give in to her until he was certain that she was sure about what she wanted. Until she was certain it was _him _she wanted. He was willing to change, make himself better at least, but he wanted her to be content with what she has of him. He wanted her to be content with what she couldn't change in him and not suddenly break things off when he's been particularly difficult for a day or two. Despite knowing (if they even get back together) he'd always worry about her breaking up with him, he didn't want to be treading on eggshells around her because then, what was the point of being with her anyway if he couldn't be himself—if _she _wouldn't let him be himself around her?

"She couldn't just drop me then pick me up whenever she wants," House stated, justifying his reason for not giving into Cuddy when she'd revealed that she wanted him back.

With a sigh, Wilson nodded. "You're right," he acknowledged. "I'm sorry, about earlier," he told House, remembering his earlier outburst. It was his initial opinion. After hearing House's thoughts on the matter he had to admit that his reason was valid. He even agreed with him.

House nodded, accepting the unnecessary apology.

After a moment of silence, House looked at Wilson with accusing, suspicious eyes.

"You're going to tell her what I told you, aren't you?" he asked the good Oncologist.

Wilson shrugged, feigning an innocent visage.

"Don't."

"Or what?" Wilson challenged.

Not acknowledging the challenge, House told him, "She'd stop at nothing to convince me. Do you even know her?" House made a face. He remembered that time after the hostage-taking incident when she just kept showing up, wearing overtly low-cut tops and extra tight skirts, vying for his attention… and more. When Cuddy wanted something, she didn't stop at nothing to get it. This time around, he didn't want it to be that way. He wasn't being difficult—he was being cautious. He wanted her to find her way back to him, earn back his trust, without Wilson telling her that all she had to do was "convince him".

Wilson chuckled. "But you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, indeed aware of how Cuddy would hound him into taking her back.

House rolled his eyes at that. "Under different circumstances, of course," he chose to say before ordering another bottle. Wilson eyed him and he defended himself, telling him, "Last one."

"Don't tell her, Wilson," House warned in a serious tone after a few seconds, his eyes indicating that he was far from challenging his best friend. "She'll find a way," he added, his tone confident. She always did, House thought to himself as he took the bartender's proffered bottle.

"You sound confident," Wilson noted. House shrugged.

Respecting House's undisclosed reasons, Wilson nodded in acquiescence.

"Don't tell her," House repeated, wanting to make sure they were clear on that matter.

"I won't," Wilson promised, hoping House was right.

* * *

><p><em><strong>9 PM<strong>_

Cuddy had gone home early that day, surprising almost everyone at work who knew her. An hour after her and House's talk, she exited her office, calling it a day.

She went home to a happy Rachel who had just had dinner and was ready for bed.

"Why are we quiet, Mommy?" Rachel asked, wrapped in Mom's embrace.

Cuddy smiled, squeezing her daughter.

"Hmm…" Cuddy started, knowing Rachel liked that humming sound, "Why don't you tell me about your adventures with House?"

"Okay!" Rachel heartily agreed. Suddenly, sitting still and being wrapped in her mother's embrace didn't seem so boring.

As Cuddy held her daughter who was talking nonstop of her numerous adventures with her mate, House, Cuddy couldn't help but smile longingly and think deeply. Rachel loved Wilson too, but she had never told as many stories about the times he'd babysat her or the fun they had. Rachel also never spoke as much about her visits with her mother, and her cousins, Julia's children. It was entirely obvious that House had won and earned Rachel's love and trust. Rachel always asked about him because she knew that Mommy always went to where House works as well. The hospital.

Rachel always seemed so happy and full of life whenever she told her stories to Cuddy; stories of House and her doing this or that, having a lot of fun. While she genuinely enjoyed her daughter's vibrant voice and gestures in her storytelling (something she probably got from House), a part of Cuddy sank in the guilty reminder of what she had let go of in exchange of what she thought would be a better life for them; where she and House were not together. It had been too late for her to consider just how much House had grown on Rachel and vice versa. And just how much Rachel made him better. What she also couldn't set aside was how he made Rachel feel safe, loved and protected. Without intending to, he had become the closest thing Rachel had to a father.

Rachel Cuddy, her daughter, had tamed the untamable heart of Gregory House.

She shook herself internally, reminding herself that she was having the conversation with Rachel to help clear her head. She was still reeling in from her and House's encounter earlier. She hadn't changed her mind—she still wanted him back in their lives, but she wouldn't force him.

"He was so funny, Mommy," Rachel chuckled, face flushed from her active storytelling. Her eyes sparkled as she turned in her mother's arms, looked up at her and smiled.

"He was?" Cuddy crooned, squeezing Rachel a bit.

"Uh-huh!" Rachel said with a wide, cheeky grin. A while later, her smile fell and she frowned, lips jutting out.

Cuddy's brows furrowed at that, but she thought that maybe she knew what was wrong. Nevertheless, she asked her daughter softly, "What's the matter, honey?"

Never one to beat around the bush—just like her mother— Rachel instantly replied in a semi-small voice.

"I miss Hows."

Cuddy pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead as she sighed.

"I miss him, too, Rachel," she whispered, holding the little girl against her chest.

"I miss him very, very much," Rachel added, brushing away Mommy's hair which had stuck to her face.

Cuddy chuckled and pulled back from their embrace. She cupped her daughter's cheeks tenderly and smiled.

"I miss him very, very much, too," she told Rachel who smiled sweetly back at her.

From Rachel's lively and animated stories, Cuddy couldn't have missed and loved House more.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: ****Loved, liked, no likey, hate me still for taking too long to update? Do leave a review to let me know what you think or how you feel!**  
>You guys still there? LOL, say hi and say you need them to get back together ASAP!<br>I haz to know you guys are still here reading! :)_

What do you guys think Cuddy would do next? *winks* Any ideas?

**P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING BS REACH 500+ REVIEWS!  
><strong>You guys have no idea how thankful I am to have such amazing and kind readers like you! I know how ungrateful I may seem, given my recent track record in updating, but I promise I'll make it up to you all this summer vacation! Thank you so much for the never ending support and patience!


	21. XX

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Shore & Co.'s.

_**A/N: **_Thanks to Penny for the quick beta services!

Dear patient and kind readers, this is only a filler chapter, forgive me for the word count!

Since the previous chapters are already so repetitive I wrote this filler so the next couple of chaps could be focused on -SPOILER-. Ha! C'mon, you all know what's going to happen next! No need for me to spell it out! *wink wink* No, those winks did not imply SMUT. Or did they? *twirls evil writer mustache*

Thank you for the continued support and patience! I'm really sorry you waited months for this measly 1.5k-word filler.

You all have been so supportive and awesome throughout my fanfic writing years, I hate myself for not having the time to write more and update often. If I graduate (or if I don't xD) I'm SO going to make it up to you guys!

Drop a rev if you please. :) How do you think Cuddy will get House back? ;D

Hope you like this!

Happy almost New Year to everyone!

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><em><strong>XX<strong>_

.

He wouldn't be there.

It was the only thing Cuddy could process at that moment as she stared at the ceiling, her alarm blaring a couple of inches from her ear.

A couple of minutes later she finally sat up in bed and turned off the alarm. She ran a hand against her sleeping daughter's back, planting a kiss on the crown of her head before she got up from bed and started her day half-heartedly.

She was still determined to win House back, but they both needed time to recuperate. They both needed space to just breathe. She made herself coffee and sat on a chair, elbows propped on the counter as she nursed her warm mug.

She frowned as she recalled his words. He was right though. She'd been unsure of what she wanted, going from not wanting him to wanting him back. And she couldn't blame him for thinking she could just as easily change her mind again, if he hadn't shot her down.

She had been fighting with herself over what she wanted and what she thought she needed and deserved that she hadn't given much thought to how he'd been trying to prove himself to her. How he'd been what she truly wanted and needed in her life, but was too afraid of the magnitude of that truth to even consider giving in to it when he had hurt her so deeply. When he could _still_ hurt her so deeply. She herself had been afraid of pain, more pain, that she had ended their story before it even really began.

She was with Lucas longer than she was with House, and the latter was the man she had been in love with for years.

It was all so screwed up.

She sighed heavily and finished her coffee. After rinsing the mug and setting it aside, she changed into her yoga pants and top. She laid out her mat before trying to center herself and focused on trying to relax.

After some time, she was unable to do so, her mind too occupied by thoughts. Because of this, she was grateful that Marina came more or less than six minutes later, a good half an hour early for her duty. Since Rachel would have her with her when she woke up, Cuddy decided to jog a couple of miles. She needed the release. To feel the wind against her skin. To be able to think outside of the confines of her house and every memory of her and House in it.

Her iPod strapped on and ear pods plugged in, her feet hit the pavement and she ran.

After her run, she went back home and made for the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Rachel was already having breakfast in the kitchen, Marina allowing her to feed herself with a spoon.

"Hi, baby!" Cuddy greeted her daughter with a smile and a kiss.

"Mornin', Mama!" Rachel greeted with a toothy grin.

Cuddy sat with her daughter for a while before getting up and getting a move on it- she had to get ready for work.

While getting dressed, after her shower, she couldn't help but mull over her thoughts during her run.

She had to get House back. The hospital needed him. Never mind that _she_ needed him, too. His _patients _needed him more.

His team was exceptional, true, but their statistics would surely show that they lost more lives without House than with him.

He was the best doctor she knew and she'd trust him with her life.

Cuddy sighed after she finished applying her lipstick.

Determined, she squared her shoulders and held her chin up as she strode to the hallway, briefcase in hand.

She kissed Rachel goodbye, thanked Marina, and left for work.

She had a call to make.

* * *

><p>"Dr. Cuddy for Dr. Stein, please."<p>

"Please hold."

Cuddy waited to be connected to the Princeton General Hospital Administrator, her backside resting against the desk House had refurbished for her.

Nails tapping impatiently (and, admittedly, anxiously) against the wood, she thought about how to broach the subject.

"Dr. Cuddy!" Dr. Stein's voice broke through her thoughts a couple more seconds later. "It's been a while," the man said lightheartedly. Truthfully, Stein was a good man and a very respectable administrator. But Cuddy had always been a bit ticked off at just how actively they pursued House even though he already shot them down time and time again. Not to mention that he already had a job at Princeton Plainsboro.

"Quite a while," Cuddy agreed.

"So, Dr. Cuddy, how can I be of service to you?" He asked amiably, making Cuddy's brows furrow slightly.

"I think you know exactly what I'm calling about, Steven," Cuddy stated.

"I actually don't, Lisa."

"House isn't looking for a job," Cuddy stated firmly, but not scathingly. "He's still employed."

"We weren't looking to hire him."

"Then why don't you tell me about the meeting?"

"Lisa, I don't know what House told you, but as far as I know, there is no meeting. I may have been very upfront with how much I want House to head up a new department with us, but I wouldn't go as far as to poach him secretively. And not to mention during work hours."

Stein's words gave Cuddy pause. It took her all of a minute to figure out what House had done.

"Steven," Cuddy started firmly. "You're telling me the truth?" She asked him, her voice softening.

"Yes," Stein stated sincerely.

"Listen, I'll double check just to make sure," Stein sighed and then assured her.

Feeling embarrassed by her initial aggressiveness, Cuddy softly told him, "Thanks, Steven. I'm sorry for the fuss."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'd fuss over him too if I were his employer," Stein said, chuckling slightly to assure her. "But when he's out of a job, he's fair game," Stein added playfully, to make light of the awkwardness.

Cuddy smiled and chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course," she said.

"Well, I'll let you go now. I do apologize for the call," Cuddy told him, knowing that, like herself, Stein was a very busy man.

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Cuddy. You even brightened my morning. Good day."

"Good day," Cuddy replied before hanging up as well. That was one less thing to think about, she thought.

House had lied to her and Wilson.

It made her smile hopefully.

* * *

><p>He didn't have a meeting, not really.<p>

Princeton General had been after him for quite a few years already, but he had always turned them down. Using them to make Wilson and Cuddy back down for a while made sense. He would never get away with even half of what Cuddy let him get away with at Plainsboro anyway.

He had money; he could afford slacking off for a while. Besides, he needed the rest. Bored as he would undoubtedly be without case after case to keep him occupied, he needed a break.

As he sat on his couch, mug of coffee on the coffee table in front of him, and a book to take him miles away, on his lap, he thought of whether Cuddy would actually try to show him that she was certain she wanted him or just leave everything as they were.

A part of him was anxious to know the answer while the other part was trying its best not to care even if he did.

As sappy as it sounded he wanted Cuddy to love him for him. To want him despite his flaws. To encourage him to be better and not lose faith in him before he even really started to try.

He wanted her to be with him with eyes wide open and not through rose-colored glasses.

He just wanted them to be House and Cuddy- the people they weren't half the time when they'd been together.

He sighed and screwed his eyes shut.

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and focused on the book settled atop his legs.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Wilson greeted as he entered her office.<p>

"Hi," Cuddy greeted as she looked up, giving him a small smile. As embarrassing as her call to Dr. Stein had been, it made her feel the slightest bit relieved.

"So, how are you?" Wilson asked her.

Cuddy shrugged. "I'll be okay," she told him,

"He told me you wanted him back," Wilson started, feeling a bit uncomfortable, because he didn't know what kind of response he was going to get.

"He also tell you he shot me down?" Cuddy asked him, not batting an eyelid.

Wilson nodded meekly. "You can't blame him, Cuddy," he told her quietly.

Sighing Cuddy said, "I know. And I don't."

"So... What happens next?" Wilson asked tentatively.

"Nothing," Cuddy answered simply. "We need a bit of time from each other, Wilson. These past few weeks have been, well, you know."

"You will try though?" Wilson asked her, his voice hopeful and cautious. "To fix things?"

"I love him," was Cuddy's answer, a small smile that reached her eyes taking over her face. "Of course I will." She only hoped that House would try to meet her halfway.

Wilson nodded in understanding. "I hope you two could work things out," he said before bidding her a good day and leaving her office.

He remembered House had made him promise not to intervene.


	22. XXI

_**BROKEN STRINGS**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>XXI<strong>_

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hi."

House stared at the woman before him, surprised to see her there at all. He'd been reading a journal and listening to music on his iPod when he heard someone knocking on his door. She was the last person he expected to see standing on his doorstep.

It had been more than a week since they last saw or even speak to each other. Space was what he craved, true, but two or three days ago he started feeling disappointed that they weren't talking. That she wasn't calling him. Or texting. He had started feeling like she finally knew what she wanted.

"Hi," he replied, his voice low. He observed her face and her clothes. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, hair down, no makeup. She was stunning, as always. He pulled his eyes from her and stared at the floor for a while.

He wanted to ask her why she was there. He also wanted to ask her to leave. But he really didn't want her to go, and he didn't want to frighten her off by talking. He wanted to take her in, but he also didn't want to see what his stupidity had cost him.

He's missed her so badly that the sight of her before him, at that moment, made his heart start drumming rapidly.

"I love you."

Electric blue eyes shot to stare at her, a mixture of emotions fleeting from those captivating blues. His eyebrows drew together from her words as he gauged just how serious and sincere she was.

Her voice, the way it seemed to shake but still sounded firm and soft, the look in her eyes, the way she hesitantly took a step closer to him, and the way she placed a tentative hand against his chest answered his question and eased his earlier disappointment.

"You know how I feel," was what he found himself saying in an almost inaudible whisper. His right hand cupped her left arm and squeezed her flesh with tender force. He wanted to know it was real. That _she _was real. He wanted to know that he didn't just lose himself again.

"I do," Cuddy nodded and dipped her head down when he lowered his, seeking his eyes again. "I'm real," she whispered comfortingly, understanding his gesture immediately. "This is real," she reassured him, her eyes boring into his very soul.

House nodded in acceptance, thankful for the validation.

His hand let go of her and dropped back to his side.

They remained silent for the whole of two minutes before Cuddy finally gathered the strength to say the rest of what she came to say.

She pulled her hand from his chest, but didn't step back. She immediately missed the warmth and sturdiness of his body.

"It's you, House," she told him firmly, a small smile on her lips. "I want to be with you."

When House only stared at her, her smile faded and she turned more serious, taking his silence as consent to continue.

"I know I've been indecisive and difficult. I know we'll have many things and issues to work through. I also know I have many issues to deal with myself."

"I do, too," House whispered, feeling as if he had to extend some sort of branch to let her know he understood what she was saying.

"I want you to trust me again," Cuddy said, her voice quiet yet hopeful as she searched his eyes.

"I do trust you," House mumbled in defense, shifting his weight on his left leg more.

With the movement he suddenly realized they were still standing on his doorstep. "You... Do you want to come in?" he invited awkwardly.

Cuddy shook her head, knowing their conversation would be over before long. Secretly, she also wanted- _hoped,_ rather- this conversation would somewhat be a salve to the painful memory of how she ended their relationship.

"You trust me in everything but this," she settled her palm on his chest, feeling how quickly his heart was beating against it. "You never really did, and with the way I was acting halfway through, I didn't really give you reason to." She pulled her hand from his warm chest and crossed her arms in front of her, her nails nervously fiddling with the fabric of her sweater.

They both remembered how they kept expecting things to fail. Cuddy had thought House would never be able to do what she'd asked of him, the things and ways she wanted him to change. House had expected her to break up with him over the smallest things, thinking just how much of a disappointment he was.

He remembered thinking how she deserved so much more than what he had to offer.

She grimaced as she recalled believing she deserved so much more than what he was giving her. So much more than what she thought he could ever give.

"I kept disappointing you," House said, meeting her eyes and therefore owning to his shortcomings. "Even when I only wanted you to be happy. I kept screwing things up." He recalled missing the party for an award she was receiving. He sent the Mariachi band for her, but didn't think she'd really need _him_ there especially since more than half of the attendees hated his guts.

"I became too controlling and I unconsciously kept trying to change you when I really didn't want you to," Cuddy admitted, hating herself the more she opened her eyes to what she'd become prior to her medical crisis.

"You have the right to demand things sometimes," House consoled her when her eyes turned the slightest bit glassy.

"Not the way I did. I was... terrible."

"Not that much," House joked flatly, winking at her.

She shook her head, a smirk almost making its way to her face.

"You do, too, by the way. You could say when I'm being too uptight or too controlling. You could have done a different version of what you did when you confronted me about Mom. But you never asked me anything, you barely even complained." She sighed after that last sentence, remembering how tolerant and patient he'd been with her, her mood swings, her demanding streak, and practically everything negative she did.

They were quiet once more.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Cuddy mumbled, "You should have."

"I was always at the end of my rope with you, Cuddy. I always thought you'd end the relationship over the smallest mistake," House reasoned, running a hand along the back of his head. "I kept... I don't know. I do something you disapprove of, I get the couch. I do something that makes you mad, I get the boot straight to my apartment. I leave the toilet seat up and get you stressed at work, which has always been the crazy normal for us, you want us to take time out, cool off. And everything I just said got me no kisses let alone sex. Basically, to avoid losing you, I had to conform to some idea you had of me that just wasn't... me."

"Why did you stay with me if I'd been that horrible?" Cuddy frowned.

"I love you," he said it as if it was good enough reason to bend to her every whim and demand despite how hard it was for him. It made Cuddy feel even guiltier, but also more in love with him (knowing he loved her that much). "No one's perfect. And you had your days, but you weren't always horrible," House assured her, shrugging. "It's not like I'm the easiest person to be with," he mumbled as an afterthought.

Cuddy smiled the slightest bit as she looked him over.

As a sudden thought hit her, with a bit of longing in her voice, Cuddy asked, "You think we could have avoided everything if we had just _talked…_ like how we're talking now?"

House returned her smile with a barely visible grin of his own as he answered her question, saying, "Not _everything_."

"I want us to start over," Cuddy finally said, the purpose for her unannounced visit revealed if it hadn't already been obvious to the man before her. "I want to earn your trust again and, if I do, I want you to be comfortable enough in our relationship to not walk on eggshells around me in fear of me ending things."

"I don't think that will ever happen," Cuddy's face fell, so House quickly added, "Me never being afraid I'll screw something up that will eventually make you break up with me."

Only partly relieved he was talking about his fear and not the second go around she was suggesting, Cuddy expelled the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"I want us to try," she breathed. Her hand lifted from her side once more and she unconsciously drew circles on his chest as she continued. "And I need you to meet me halfway, because there will be things I'll only begin to learn to understand, accept, and get used to," she added in request, her voice and eyes projecting sincere vulnerability.

Silence dawned upon them again as Cuddy waited for House's consent or rejection. When she'd thought part of this idea through, she'd forgotten to come up with a contingency plan if he rejected her. The lapse in planning, along with her nerves, was making her feel suffocated. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Okay," House finally answered, nodding once.

Happiness and relief overpowering her, Cuddy didn't realize that she'd sought House's lips with hers until she'd finally pulled away. House found his arms around her waist. Cuddy's other hand had joined the one already on his chest. Their foreheads were resting against each other's, eyes closed.

"Want to watch a Monster Truck rally with Rachel and me, tomorrow?" Cuddy asked as she lowered herself back on the soles of her feet, looking up at him. Her eyes were sparkling with renewed hope and love that immediately infected him.

"TV?" House asked, an eyebrow arched. Not once did Cuddy agree to watch the real thing with him. She also never allowed him to take Rachel with him that one time he asked if he could. Having Wilson tag along as additional adult did not even help sway her.

Proud of herself, Cuddy shook her head and smiled widely when his eyes widened in what could only be surprise and excitement.

"No. Live."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_** Thank you for being part of my 2012! **I wish all of you guys the best in 2013! **Happy New Year!******

Hope you liked this chapter! Finally getting somewhere! Am I awesome or what?

Fastest update EVER! I'm still beating myself over the word count, but you guys absolutely deserve an update! I got ridiculously inspired out of the blue! Thank God.

To those who have me listed as one of their Favorite Authors, I couldn't even begin to describe how flattered and happy I am that I made your lists! Thank you!

Anyway, where were the others last chapter? *pouts* Hope you're still around, guys! :)

Please drop a rev to let me know you all are still interested in this baby!


	23. XXII

**A/N: **Unbeta'd, my mistakes! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><strong>BROKEN STRINGS<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>XXII<strong>

* * *

><p>.<p>

The moment the brown-haired, blue-eyed spitfire saw him, something within him swelled at the delight emanating from her.

"Hows!" Rachel exclaimed gleefully, hugging him as if she hadn't seen him for so long.

"Hey, Rachel," he greeted her, voice low and trying to fight off a smile. He ruffled her hair, making her look up at him. She smiled widely. Her eyes were so lit with happiness at just the sight of him, he couldn't even begin to understand how he had been able to make the little girl like him in the first place.

"Hi," Cuddy greeted him, smiling and happy at the sight of them grinning at one another.

House looked at her, his eyes taking her in. Jeans, V-neck tee, and black boots. She's always been perfect in anything.

"Hi."

"You two ready to go?" House asked them. Last night, Cuddy had offered to pick him up, but he shook his head and offered to pick her and Rachel up instead. He was practicing meeting her halfway. Besides, it had been the right thing to do.

Cuddy's smile reached her eyes as she nodded at the same time Rachel shouted, "Yeah!"

"Mommy say we watchin' Monster Trucks!" Rachel exclaimed, practically bouncing next to him, tiny hand in his, as they made their way to his beat-up old Dodge.

"Yup!" House replied as he grinned at her.

"House, let's take my car, yours doesn't have a-"

"Does now!" House cut Cuddy off, knowing she was talking about a car seat.

Cuddy's brows shot up as she fought the urge to smile even wider. She bit her lip as she approached his vehicle. She watched him buckle Rachel into her new car seat, internally gushing at the sight. She has always enjoyed seeing him doing the simplest things with Rachel. Seeing him take care of her always made her heart skip a beat, reminded her there was so much more to him than what he let most people see.

The view of his biceps working the car seat straps didn't help though. God, those muscles flexing. Cuddy shook her head and tried to compose herself as quickly and subtly as she could.

Exhaling, she opened the door and got in the car.

"Grave Digger is going to crush them all!" House said as he buckled his seat belt, looking back at Rachel who nodded enthusiastically in return.

"I don't understand how you get her hooked with these things." Cuddy has always been amused by it. Needless to say, she's also been very mortified about it. She shook her head. Looking at her daughter she chuckled, loving the glow Rachel's cheeks have adopted. She was so happy in House's company.

"Best to teach her the best quality shows and hobbies at an early age!" House joked, a small grin on his lips before he started driving to the venue. "Clearly, _you _won't be the one teaching her these important things," he huffed in jest.

Cuddy didn't point out that he was talking like they'd be raising her daughter together. She only smiled and chuckled at him, happy that he wasn't uncomfortable.

"Where you been, Hows?" Rachel interrupted and looked at him through the rear view mirror, her question innocent. She had missed playing with him, missed his funny voice and funny jokes.

Peering quickly at Cuddy when, from the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch a bit at Rachel's inquiry, he tried to think of the best answer.

If he and Cuddy hadn't patched (sort-of) things up last night, he probably would have answered Rachel bluntly with, "Your Mommy broke up with me." Or something like that.

House glanced at Rachel, gauging her features. Just as quickly, he trained his eyes back to the road ahead. "I've been very busy, Rachel," he chose to tell her.

"You have lotsa sick people to help?" The little girl's question made him smirk a bit.

"I had a lot of _very_ sick people to save," House confirmed, nodding seriously, because Rachel was watching him intently. It was partly a lie, though. He had been very busy with his very sick patients until he'd resigned and went through his notice.

"You not busy now?" she asked him curiously, smiling in acceptance when he smiled at her through the rear view mirror and confirmed that he wasn't busy.

"Have you eaten dinner?" House asked Cuddy after a while.

Cuddy nodded, smiling when after she'd said, "Yes. You?" Rachel immediately informed House what they'd had for dinner.

"I'll stuff myself with hotdogs and popcorn at the event," House replied, making her roll her eyes.

"Let's stop by someplace after."

"Sounds good."

"POPCORN!" Rachel giggled in her car seat, making House grin and Cuddy smirk.

"Hows?"

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I want cheeeeese."

"Chees popcorn it is," House nodded, glancing at the grin on Rachel's face when he acquiesced easily in the presence of her mother.

A minute later, Rachel added, "In a biiiiig tubby."

"Bucket."

"Bucket," Rachel repeated the correction.

"You won't finish a big bucket of cheese popcorn, Rachel," Cuddy told her. "House will get you a small one."

Rachel pouted, beseeching House through the rear-view mirror.

"Let her have her bucket, Cuddy," House mumbled, looking over at the mother of the manipulative little rugrat behind them.

"House-"

"I'll finish what's left in her bucket, if she doesn't," House assured her.

Sighing, Cuddy relented, nodding her acceptance.

While waiting for the red light to go green, House turned to Rachel and said, "Guess what, ye Bilge Rat?"

"What?" Rachel asked, a lopsided grin forming.

"You get to have your big bucket of cheese popcorn after all," House said, smirking when Rachel squealed with glee.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I let Rachel watch this," Cuddy mumbled as she sat next to House who had Rachel perched on his lap. "I can't believe I let <em>you<em> let Rachel watch it." She palmed her cheek, biting her lower lip as she surveyed the area and the clash of metal on metal going on at the center of the arena.

House grinned fondly at her. "She's having fun!"

Noticing how pink her Rachel's cheeks were from shouting along with whatever House yelled out at the trucks called Grave Digger and Monster Mutt, she said,"I guess," but smiling anyway when he suddenly stood up with Rachel, shouting with the little girl mimicking him. She had no idea what had just happened, and although she didn't really approve of this violent display she thought that seeing House and Rachel bonding like this and having so much fun together was more than worth it. It's not like these events happened in town often.

"Mama! Loooooooook!" Rachel squealed in delight, pointing at the truck that had just turned on its side.

"I see it, baby." Cuddy extended a hand to brush hair from her daughter's forehead.

At first Cuddy wasn't interested in seeing anything, choosing to work on some files on her BlackBerry. Eventually though, with Rachel constantly calling for her attention, asking if she saw this and that, the stunts did start to amuse her. Some stunts were impressive, she'd give them that, but the others she felt were just inappropriate for the eyes of a three-year-old girl.

They continued watching the event without conversing until House spoke. "Thanks, Cuddy," he whispered, left arm securing itself around Rachel while his right hand slid in between them to interlace his fingers with hers.

Her thumb ran along the top of his hand, smiling at the feel of their hands and fingers intertwined. She looked down to admire how well her hand was clasped in the security of his.

"There's nothing to thank me for," she told him softly, meeting his gaze. "Let's just... both do better this time," she smiled softly before turning back in time to see Grave Digger speed towards a ramp, flying from its highest edge and crushing the waiting cars in the center of the ring.

Instantly, the crowd in the arena rose from their seats and cheered.

House did as well, but his gaze was torn from the spectacle when he found Cuddy on her feet as well, clapping beside him. She was composed enough to not yell, but the fact that she was finally enjoying a part of this made him smile stupidly.

Cuddy caught him staring at her and she smiled shyly at him as if asking, "What?"

"Hows!" Rachel's shrill voice caught their attention.

"What, squirt?" House asked her, smirking.

Rachel pointed to the seat next to them where a bucket sat.

"Popcorn, please."

* * *

><p>"We don't have to stop for food," House told Cuddy as they walked towards his car. He was carrying a very sleepy Rachel whose head was lolling against his shoulder.<p>

"It's okay," House assured her when she glanced at him, pursing her lips. "This landlubber is about ready to crash," he added, jostling Rachel a little, making her giggle quietly and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

Cuddy thought they looked adorable together.

"How about we head to my house and order Chinese instead?" Cuddy suggested, biting her lip unconsciously as they continued walking. That way, she could put Rachel down for the night and maybe she and House could... talk more while they ate.

He must be hungry. The Monster Jam event started at 7. It was already 10 in the evening. And he hasn't had dinner yet. Okay, he had some popcorn, hotdogs and maybe around two or three large tumblers of Coke, but knowing him and his black hole of an appetite, he had to be hungry still.

The left side of House's mouth tugged up a bit at her invitation. "Cuddy, we have tomorrow."

A perfectly plucked brow arched, Cuddy asked hopefully, "We do?"

House chuckled as he unlocked the doors for them. He buckled Rachel into her car seat and rounded the car to get to the driver's seat when he was certain Rachel was securely tucked in.

"Rachel invited me over tomorrow," House told her as he started the car, answering her impending question. "I said yes."

Cuddy chuckled, looking back at her daughter.

"You should really start teaching her not to invite boys over." He glanced at her goofily, bobbing his eyebrows before focusing back on the road.

Shaking her head, Cuddy smiled and retorted, "I have a feeling _you_ invited yourself over."

"Ask your little devil," House replied fondly.

Humoring him and partly curious as well, Cuddy turned to her sleepy angel and asked, "Honey, did you invite House to come over tomorrow?"

Sleepily, Rachel nodded in confirmation. "We goin'a play..." she explained, yawning adorably before she could really complete what she was going to say.

Glancing quickly at her, House smirked smugly and said, "See?"

"So... Is that a no to Chinese then?" Cuddy asked, unconsciously biting her lip again. She had missed being this comfortable with him. She didn't want the night to be over just yet.

"Aren't you tired?" House inquired curiously.

"Not really. It's okay if you'd rather just drop us off and head home though," Cuddy told him, shrugging while trying to hide her disappointment. She didn't want to force him into anything he didn't feel like doing. At least not until they were back to their crazy normal.

"I'm not trying to get rid of you." House huffed in slight annoyance. He hated hearing her defeated and disappointed.

"It's okay, House," Cuddy assured him.

"Cuddy, I'm not," House insisted. "I just..." He sighed and dropped his head for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "My leg's a bit sore from the excitement," he admitted.

Understanding completely, Cuddy nodded.

"Okay," she whispered instead of asking how sore his leg was.

After a while, Cuddy changed the topic and asked, "What time will you be over tomorrow?"

Pursing his lips, House replied, "What time do you want me to come?"

Cuddy shrugged. "Any time you feel like it. As long as you do, because Rachel will be expecting you."

Wanting to somehow assure Cuddy that they weren't back to square one, House playfully asked, "If I come over at lunch time will you feed me?"

"Maybe," Cuddy teased, smiling slightly as she glanced his way.

House nodded.

"Lunch," he said simply.

"Okay. What do you want?"

"Surprise me," House replied playfully, making her smile, accepting his challenge.

When a couple more minutes later they parked in Cuddy's driveway, House quietly inquired, "Need help with her?"

Smiling, Cuddy shook her head and just as quietly replied, "No, I'm good, thanks. I've got her."

She unbuckled a sleeping Rachel from the seat and pulled her into her arms. House shut the door for her and accompanied her to the front door where he asked her for her keys. Cuddy gave them to him and he unlocked the front door for her and Rachel.

"I'll just get her settled," Cuddy whispered before disappearing into Rachel's room.

House stepped inside, only a few steps from the front door, just waiting for Cuddy to come back.

A moment later she did, approaching him. She stopped two feet away from him and he stepped closer to make it less than one. She smiled up at him, blue eyes sparkling, loving the nearness and wishing she could eliminate the remaining space. But, like him, she wanted to take things slow this time around.

"Thank you," Cuddy told him, unable to resist the temptation to feel his warmth, her right hand crawling in between them to lay upon the center of his chest.

"You bought the tickets," House reminded her.

Cuddy smiled, nodding. "Yes, but _you_ showed Rachel a great time."

"Only Rachel?" House smirked.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and admitted, "I had a good time. While I'll admit that some of the stunts were entertaining, most of it I still believe are not for the eyes of any three-year-old child."

House pouted.

"But," Cuddy added, a smile slowly spreading across her mouth, "I know neither you nor I will let that violence corrupt her."

House's face sobered at that, appreciating that she trusted him enough to not let it affect Rachel negatively. And he smiled when she finished her scolding by saying she wouldn't not allow him to take Rachel to watch the next _godforsaken event._

_"_I'll see you tomorrow?" Cuddy asked after a while, biting the inside of her lip. She really did wish he'd stay, but knowing they'll have him over the next day made her not insist.

House nodded. "Yeah."

Cuddy tentatively closed the space between them and trailed the three middle fingers of her right hand under his chin to lure him into meeting her approaching lips. She sighed luxuriously when their lips met.

"Good night, House," she whispered as she pulled away a bit. Smiling, she placed another quick yet sexy open mouthed peck on his unsuspecting lips before lowering herself until the soles of her shoes met the ground again.

House resisted the urge to lick his moistened lips in front of her. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her luscious lips pressed and gliding against his. He swallowed thickly before giving her a small nod.

"'Night, Cuddy," he mumbled gruffly before halfheartedly turning on his heel to make his way to his car and leave.

Cuddy watched him, slightly dazed, until his tail lights disappeared into the night.

She sighed as she closed her front door and bolted it. Closing her eyes, she couldn't help but imagine kissing him longer, their lips fused together, tongues tangling. Couldn't help but imagine his lips in places other than her mouth alone.

Soon enough, she thought, soon enough.

* * *

><p>When House got home, he quickly raided his medical cabinet for Ibuprofen before making his way to the bathroom and filling his tub with hot water.<p>

His leg had begun to act up halfway through his drive back. What started as a dull throb while driving Cuddy and Rachel back home slowly became a gnawing pain that made him reach for his Ibuprofen bottle as quickly as he got home. When he had checked his glove compartment, the bottle he had was already empty.

As he sank into the water, House relaxed as the heat surrounded his mangled thigh. With his right hand, he massaged it as gently yet firmly as he could, willing it to stop aching.

He leaned his head back against the tiles, closing his eyes. He hoped the water's heat and his kneading were enough to stop the pain.

His eyes flew open when his cellphone rang and vibrated on the floor, the sound muffled by his jeans.

With his left hand, House pulled at one leg of the jeans to bring it closer to him. He fished his cellphone out of one pocket and answered without checking who the caller was.

"Kinda busy right now," he gruffly stated, thinking it could only be Wilson.

"I doubt that," he heard Cuddy say, making his brows furrow and his right hand pause above his scar.

House pulled the device from his ear and checked the LCD to make sure it was Cuddy calling. Which was a stupid reaction, he realized after a second when he brought the phone back to his ear.

He ended up asking her teasingly, "Miss me already?"

A faint chuckle slash snort blew into his ear. "Just wanted to know you got home okay."

"I guess this is proof."

He could practically see her biting the inside of her cheek.

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a while until they both spoke at the same time.

She asked, "How's your leg?" while he asked, "What are you wearing?"

Typical.

They both chuckled.

"Your leg?" Cuddy inquired softly, hoping the aches from earlier hadn't worsened.

"Pain got worse on the way home," he mumbled, never one to really say anything about his pain.

"Is it still, right now?"

"I'm naked, taking a hot bath to soothe it. Wanna help?" House grinned, knowing she'd be rolling her eyes at the other end of the line.

It was too easy, the teasing, flirting, and bickering between them. They always eventually fell back to their old routine.

"I'm sure your right hand has it covered," Cuddy smirked.

"My right hand is not as good as yours. Or your left."

"I'm sure you'll manage."

"House?"

"Hmm?" He was massaging his leg again, head tilted back against the tiled wall of his bathroom, his eyes screwed shut.

It had been a day well spent. Her call, hearing her voice, soothed the pain a little. Despite the throbbing in his thigh, her call was a good end to the day.

"I just wanted to say good night. I hope your leg feels better soon," she whispered. "And I had fun today, thank you."

House's face softened. "Thank yourself, too, Cuddy," he whispered in reply, "You let go and bought the tickets. You wanted us to go out and have a great night. You let yourself enjoy it."

Upon hearing his words, Cuddy smiled.

"I love you, of course I'd want to spend time doing things you like to do," she quietly said, knowing it was one of the things she avoided doing after that messed up GoKart double date with Wilson and Sam. She'd realized that when she was reflecting on their relationship, particularly, sorting through _her_ shortcomings.

House smiled slightly. As if reading her mind, he asked,"Except double dates with Wilson and Sam?"

Cuddy chuckled breathily. "Except that," she agreed.

When silence descended again, Cuddy felt it was time to leave him to his thoughts.

"'Night, House," she said. "I hope your leg feels better after that soak."

"What are you wearing?" He asked again, with a hopeful grin she couldn't see.

Cuddy laughed and bid him good night once more without answering his question.

House shook his head and smiled before setting his cellphone down on top of his jeans.

Yeah, he thought, it'd been a good day.


	24. XXIII

**_Disclaimer: Still not mine, sadly. _**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_** I suck, I know! No excuses. Thanks to Jess for the really quick beta!

Here you go, hope you enjoy it! Last chapter coming soon. Absence chap coming 1st week of January. SO not going to post depressing shiz Christmas season. Lol. God, I've missed you all! Happy Holidays! _  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XXIII<em>**

* * *

><p>.<p>

House took a deep breath as he got out of his beat-up old Dodge. He was already an hour late. He glared evilly at the paper bag in his left hand, the cartoon drawing on the box inside smiled innocently at him as if it wasn't its fault he was late. Sighing heavily as he rang the bell, he hoped Cuddy hadn't already plotted his punishment. After a few seconds, he had to smirk when he heard an excited, "He's heeeeeere!" from the other side of the door.

The door opened to reveal Cuddy and the little barnacle, a pirate hat on her tousled hair. Unable to help it, he grinned and gently thrust the paper bag towards Rachel.

"For me?" the little girl asked in astonishment, too surprised to look down at the bag in her hands. House only nodded in reply, mustering a "yeah" right before Rachel charged forward to hug him.

"Thanks, Hows!" Rachel chirped, grinning up at him and stepping back.

The two adults' eyes met upon hearing the little girl squeal in delight. They both smirked: House because he knew the gift would annoy Cuddy (especially if he continued letting Rachel watch that stupid cartoon) and Cuddy because she expected nothing less, after all he was her daughter's enabler.

Ridiculously happy with her new toy, Rachel cried, "Pirate Lego!"

Momentarily forgetting House, she went running back to the living room, new toy in tow.

"Hi," House greeted Cuddy, his tone slightly awkward. "Sorry I'm late." The woman before him shrugged, letting him know he was off the hook.

"Hi," Cuddy said after a second, smiling at him as she stepped closer and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for getting her something."

Smirking playfully, House asked, "Not mad about us continuing this pirate phase?"

"Far better than Barney or Dora the Explorer," Cuddy chuckled. "I'll have to say no to the vulgar cartoon though," she stated unequivocally.

"I'll pick child-safe episodes."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and snorted. "Your "child-safe" meter is busted," she tutted knowingly.

"Okay, you pick the Rachel-friendly episodes."

"You can't make me watch that misogyny-infested series."

"C'mon, Rachel likes it."

"She's learning to like it because you like it. Find her some other pirate cartoon. We'll see if it's better for her. She's young, House. She'll start school next year. I can't have her talking about how women with big boobies can float in water if they're pushed from the plank."

Acquiescing, House nodded. "Fine."

Smiling fondly, Cuddy tentatively grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him inside her home. "Thank you," she said as she closed the door behind them.

Before she could pass him to get to Rachel, he reached for her, surprising her when he gently pushed her back against the wall.

"There's nothing you have done wrong that I haven't already forgiven," he whispered quietly, but the sincerity in his tone and the vulnerability in his eyes spoke volumes. "I hope you've done the same for me. We're here now, taking another shot at it. That's all that matters to me. I forced myself to think I'd lost my trust in you because it was the safest feeling for me to have after we'd separated, but honestly, I never did," he whispered, the back of his right hand smoothing along her jaw.

She was drowning in the depth of his eyes, entranced by the honesty in them and his words.

"I just don't want to screw this up again," House mumbled. "You and that little deck-swabber are all I have other than Wilson."

His eyes closed and brows furrowed when she tilted her head backwards to lay a kiss upon his forehead.

"I know," she said, a small smile on her lips as she watched him open his eyes. "Me too." A quiet moment passed between them before Cuddy swallowed and reciprocated.

"More than just forgiving each other... I think we should agree to forgive ourselves. I have. You're on your way. Whenever I'm mad or upset, don't always think of it as a reflection of you as a partner. Contrary to popular belief, you aren't always the source of my stress and headaches. Do you have any idea how many smart people there are at the hospital that lack common sense? When such things happen, you're the one who's almost always there for me. I say almost because there are times when you add to my stress levels as well." Cuddy smirked at him to show her attempt to lighten the mood.

House returned her smirk, nodding in understanding a second later.

"I love you," Cuddy told him, brushing her nose against the side of his. She smiled as she felt him exhale in contentment.

He was about to reply when they were interrupted by a three-foot high toddler with a healthy set of vocal chords.

"Mommy! Help open my toys!" Rachel called out impatiently from the living room.

Breath hitching slightly, Cuddy replied, saying, "Just a second, sweetie!" Her gaze never strayed from House

"With myself and with Rachel," Cuddy stated honestly and whole-heartedly, "I trust you completely." She cupped his jaw and pecked him on the lips. "She'll come running in here in a minute. Come on, we'll talk more later."

House nodded in understanding and reluctantly pulled away from her as she led him into the living room. He sat on the sofa while Cuddy knelt beside Rachel on the floor, helping her open the large package that contained the LEGO pieces.

"You didn't have to get her so many, House," Cuddy chuckled, her hand resting on his knee as Rachel started trying to assemble a LEGO man.

House smirked, leaning forward as Rachel turned to look at him, LEGOs in her outstretched hand. "Need help?" The little girl nodded.

"You do know she'll only be allowed to play these with one of us around?" Cuddy asked, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched House teach Rachel how to build different things. The little girl was on the floor, right in front of him, eyes wide and brows furrowed as she tried her best to remember how House was building what looked like a canon after having assembled the Lego pirate.

"Yes, Cap'n," House replied in his pirate voice, making Rachel giggle and mimic him. After about a half hour of playtime building LEGO pirates, Cuddy heard House's stomach growl and she stood up and said, "Come on, Rach, time for lunch. I'm sure House is hungry."

Having heard House's stomach grumble, Rachel's eyes widened then she burst into a giggling fit.

"I didn't have breakfast!" House explained, smirking as he caught sight of Rachel's face, red as a cherry from laughing. "I was busy thinking of what to get your sea urchin!"

Laughing, Cuddy called out to him without turning back. "Come along now, you Bilge Rat."

* * *

><p>Sitting on the couch, they both watched Rachel play with her new toy. She and House had spent a huge chunk of the day building the LEGOs. Cuddy's hand wandered along House's arm as she smiled at Rachel who looked happy and sleepy at the same time.<p>

"I'll get her ready for bed," she said as she stood.

"But Mom!" Rachel whined after hearing mention of the word bed. She attempted to fight her drowsiness by stifling a yawn, to no avail.

"Say goodnight to House, honey, it's time for bed."

"Not sleepy," Rachel pouted while her face suppressed another yawn.

Cuddy lifted the little girl into her arms, pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple as Rachel murmured a sleepy goodnight to House. As she got her little one dressed for bed, Rachel asked, "Is he going to stay?" She was toying with the hem of her shirt, curiously peering at her mother. Cuddy let out a soft grin, glad she didn't have to make anything up anymore.

"Do you want him to stay?" She chose to ask Rachel as she pulled up her colorful polka-dotted bottoms.

Rachel nodded with a lopsided grin plastered across her tiny mouth. "Yes," she said before she clambered up her new bed.

"Okay, then," Cuddy smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll ask House if he'd like to stay tonight so you can make pancakes together in the morning," Cuddy said as she pulled the blanket over her and tucked her in.

"P'cakes with ice cream?" Rachel sleepily whispered, her excitement no match for her tiredness.

Smirking, Cuddy said, "Maybe."

"'Night, Cap'n Mommy. Love you." Rachel whispered as her mother bent down to kiss her forehead.

Cuddy chuckled. "Sweet dreams, my baby pirate. I love you very much," Cuddy replied softly. She stayed there for a while, watching as Rachel closed her eyes and started drifting off to sleep. Brushing her hair from her face, she dropped a feather-light kiss to Rachel's cheek before standing up and leaving her room.

* * *

><p>Cuddy found House reclined on the couch, eyes closed and hands folded behind his head. She began picking LEGOs up off the floor.<p>

"She liked them, huh?" He asked. She turned her head to look at him as she rose from the floor and set the Lego box on the coffee table.

"What do you think?" Cuddy smiled as she asked him, sitting on the unoccupied space next to him. She placed a hand on his stomach, watching as he grinned at her mischievously.

"I don't think she has enough LEGO."

Cuddy snorted, "Those are enough for now," she pointed at the big box behind her. "She has too many toys already."

"Not my fault," House said teasingly, "You fold whenever she asks you to buy them for her."

Cuddy chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, I'll try my best not to spoil her."

"You're doing great with her," he said sincerely. "She's not the least bit spoiled." He squinted a bit, "Okay, maybe she's a little spoiled," he amended, chuckling when he felt the back of Cuddy's hand meet his forearm.

"You mean that?" Cuddy asked, his words meaning a lot to her.

"That she's a little spoiled?" Cuddy grinned and House returned that rare smile she loved so much. She felt his hand on her thigh, stroking affectionately, in a non-sexual manner. "You are a great mother to that little girl," he reassured her. He spoke so softly but so surely that Cuddy couldn't help but smile gratefully at him. She leaned down and met his parted lips with her own, kissing him lovingly.

"Too fast?" she questioned when she pulled away an inch, her palms flat on his chest.

House shook his head, eyes dazed as he felt that sliver of hope within him blooming again. As he gazed at her, he knew without a doubt that they could make it work this time. Their relationship was slowly but surely being rebuilt stronger than they could've ever imagined. They were learning from their past mistakes and doing it right this time.

"House?" Cuddy asked hesitantly, her brows drawing together.

Pulled away from his thoughts, he smiled at her once more. "I love you," he whispered quietly and out of the blue.

Her gaze softening she said, "I love you. Only you."

"You sure?" House jibed, earning a smack against his chest. He chuckled as Cuddy answered.

"Yes, you jerk. Only you," she told him before claiming his mouth once more.


	25. XXIV

**_Disclaimer: Not mine. Never gonna happen. :( _**

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_** Yes, a bit late. But hey, it's here! The final chapter. Special thanks to my long-time online amiga, Chrissy (aka Kaddison), for beta-ing this thing in an hour or two, or three!

To those wondering, Penny has been crazy busy (so have I). XD We're still in contact and are friends. Haha. I have less time to write and she has less, if any, time to beta. Sad as it is. :(

I like the ending, so I don't think I'll add an epilogue anymore. But let me know if you'd like one, and I'll consider writing one last chapter. No promises, but will do consider. :) Include things you'd like to read, IF EVER I DO END UP WRITING IT, and I'll see if I can fit it in. ;) Again, no promises!

As for the Absence chapter, I'll start working on it again. Not sure when that will be posted, because it has to be perfect. You guys deserve it after such a ridiculously long wait.

I don't think I'll ever be able to express in words just how much I love you guys for sticking with me and my stories! Thank you to everyone who has read this baby, and bigger thanks to everyone who reviewed along the way. Oh, and thanks to those who have Followed this story and added it to their favorites!

Prepare a toothbrush. Fluffiness will make your teeth ache! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROKEN STRINGS<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><em>XXIV<em>**

* * *

><p>.<p>

"House?" Cuddy called out, her brows furrowing as she caressed his empty side of the bed. It hadn't crossed her mind that he might not have wanted to stay the night.

Last night had been wonderful. It would have been more wonderful if they'd had sex, Cuddy thought longingly, but she wasn't complaining about the time she'd spent with him. They'd talked, flirted, made out, and laughed, simply enjoying the time they had to catch up. Cuddy had invited him to stay the night and he did.

She sighed and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Minutes later, she couldn't help but smile when she heard the pitter-patter of two little feet against the hallway floor.

"Mama!" Rachel whispered, appearing in her mother's side of the bed.

Cuddy pulled Rachel up onto the bed, wrapping her in a hug. "Good morning, baby!" She greeted the giggling little girl and kissed her cheek.

"G'mornin'!" Rachel replied breathlessly, her giggling stopping as she focused her attention on twirling her mother's locks with her little fingers.

"Why do you have flour on your hands?" Cuddy asked, brows drawing together once more as she examined Rachel's hands. Of course, her hair had flour now as well.

"Me an' Hows makin' pancakes," Rachel said with a grin, touching the tip of her mother's nose with her little finger.

The mention of House's name made Cuddy's insides flutter. He hadn't gone. "Oh are you?" Cuddy asked Rachel as she sat both of them up.

"Yes! Pancakes with ice cream!" Rachel squealed and clambered down the bed, running towards the kitchen, yelling, "Howsssss! Mama's uuuuuuuup!"

Cuddy shook her head, an unbelievably happy smile on her lips as she dropped back down onto the mattress.

Words couldn't have described the content and happiness she was feeling at that moment. She closed her eyes, just thankful.

It took her around five minutes before she finally got out of bed. The smell of butter and pancakes called out to her from the kitchen, making her stomach grumble.

She made her way to the scene of the crime, the delicious smell of food practically carrying her there.

"More ice cream!" Rachel giggled, patting House's arm again and again as she watched him scoop strawberry ice cream to top her pancake with.

"That's enough for now, Rachel," Cuddy told her daughter as she walked in on them. She shuddered as House drizzled some Hershey's chocolate syrup on Rachel's pancake as well.

"Pancake or toast?" House asked Cuddy as he set the bottle of Hershey's on the counter.

"Get paaancakes, Mama! Like me!" Rachel urged, her cheeks pink from the sugar high she was probably already on.

Cuddy shook her head, a smirk thrown towards House's direction. "It's only nine in the morning, but she's already about ready to bounce off of the walls."

House reached across the counter, Cuddy furrowing her brows as he did, and wiped traces of flour from the tip of her nose.

Mother pouted at daughter, making the little one giggle at her with sparkling eyes.

Cuddy mouthed the word "toast" to House and he proceeded to hand her a plate with her requested breakfast.

"Thanks," she said before taking a bite.

They were quiet for a while, Rachel filling the silence with her musings about her favorite ice cream flavors.

"So..." Cuddy started, glancing at House. "When are you coming back to work?"

House grinned. "You know."

"I called Stein," Cuddy admitted, a frown on her lips as she remembered that uncomfortable conversation.

She wasn't surprised when House chuckled gutturally, making Rachel smile up at him and ask, "Why you laughing?"

"Oh nothing, young one," House cooed mirthfully, his tone teasing Cuddy.

Grin still attached to his smug face, he asked Cuddy, "So how did that go?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him, not answering his question. She continued eating her toast, torn between smiling back at him and slapping the grin off his face.

"I'll be back in a week or two," House told her after a while.

"Okay," Cuddy nodded with a small smile.

"Foreman might be a bit pissed, though." House grinned.

Cuddy smirked, shaking her head.

Remembering her schedule, Cuddy said, "Oh. There's this conference in New York I have to attend in two weeks."

"How many days? Want me to take the rugrat?" House offered without really thinking hard about it. He would not shout it from the rooftops, but he did like spending time with the kid.

"Just three. I've already asked Julia to cover for Rachel, but... I can tell her I found someone closer to home. Do you want to? " Cuddy asked tentatively.

House shrugged, "Sure."

"Great. She's yours for three days," Cuddy smiled. As an afterthought, she added, "Stay here. You can have my room – no snooping! – while I'm away." House arched a brow. "You can bring some stuff over. So you won't have to go back and forth between your house and mine to get things," she explained.

"Okay," he nodded.

"Hows?"

House swung his head to the side, Rachel meeting his gaze with puppy dog eyes.

"More please?"

Cuddy stifled her laugh. Her daughter had him wrapped around her little finger.

"Cuddy?" House turned his attention to the mother of the child beside him. Rachel had already had a lot of pancakes and a hell of a lot more syrup than she should have had. He was actually dreading the running-after that was to commence within the next couple of hours.

Smiling sweetly at House, a hand coming up to cradle her chin, Cuddy told him, "It's your call."

She didn't know she could love him more than she already did at that moment, when he swallowed thickly and looked back at her daughter with the same puppy dog eyes, carefully deliberating the pros and cons of giving in.

"Okay," House acquiesced after a moment, making Cuddy chuckle at his hopelessness.

"You the best, Hows," Rachel said adoringly, smiling sweetly at him, the corner of her mouth smeared with chocolate syrup and ice cream. She was high and drunk on sugar.

"He is, isn't he, honey?" Cuddy grinned, wiping Rachel's face with a napkin.

* * *

><p>When Rachel had finally given in to her body's desperate call for a nap, House and Cuddy found themselves sitting on the couch, a silent film playing on the TV they weren't really paying attention to.<p>

Well, Cuddy in particular wasn't paying any attention because House's hand was busy drawing circles along her arm.

"Hey," House spoke, nudging her a little.

"Yeah?" Cuddy murmured, sighing as she pressed herself against him more. She was still fixated on the feel of House's fingers against her bare skin. She was tingly, admittedly.

"Why did you keep this?" House quietly asked, pulling the ring he'd told her meant nothing to him anymore out of his pocket.

Cuddy's heart constricted at the sight of the ring.

"You told me I could do whatever I wanted with it," she said after a moment of silence, gently taking the ring from him.

"I couldn't just throw it away," she whispered, glancing up at him with sad eyes.

"Would you mind if I sold it?" he asked her, a playful smirk on his lips as he watched her caress the ring. "I'll need to have a professional get rid of that engraving, of course."

Cuddy snorted.

"What?" House asked with a grin.

Trying for sweet, Cuddy asked, "Would you mind if I kept it?"

"That ring cost me a ridiculously huge amount of money," House snorted, remembering just how much made him cringe.

Cuddy laughed. "I can't believe you were going to ask me," she told him in a whisper, placing a hand on his chest.

"Me neither," he murmured. "At one point it just felt like the logical next step."

"Now?"

"I'm glad I didn't get to ask you."

Cuddy's eyes lowered as she grazed her thumb against the crown of the ring. Hearing those words from him hurt.

"Don't make that face," House nudged her, placating her by burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"I can't not make this face," Cuddy frowned.

Sighing, House asked her, "With everything going on at that time, even if you had said 'yes', do you think things would be better than how we are now?"

House smiled a little at her as her face softened.

"I'd choose how we are right now over how we were months ago."

Cuddy nodded in agreement. "Despite everything that has transpired, you're right."

"So... Can I sell that ring?" House teased, grinning against her ear as he nuzzled her.

Cuddy sighed, "Not funny."

"It wasn't then, but I think it is, now. Mainly because you're right next to me, holding it, and secretly hoping I'll ask you again someday."

Cuddy scoffed, torn between smiling and rolling her eyes at his confidence.

"What makes you so-"

He cut her off by kissing her, effectively shutting her up at the same time.

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 Weeks Later<strong>_

House rolled his eyes for what felt like the fifth time that morning.

"Her vitamins are-"

"In the medicine cabinet – where they always are."

"If she looks for me-"

"You'll be on your phone, call any time at all."

"You have my number? The hotel's number? Her pediatrician's number?"

House sighed, "Yes, Mom."

"Don't be like that," Cuddy frowned. "It's been a while since I left her to attend a conference."

"Don't worry, I've got her," he reassured.

"I know," Cuddy smiled fondly at him.

"I can't assure you she won't know how to gamble by the time you get back though," House cracked as she did a final check of her luggage. "Told Wilson we're moving Poker Night here," he grinned.

"Did you at all plan to tell me this?" Cuddy asked, straightening up. She crossed her arms as she stared at him, jaw set.

"Oi, me bilge rat, all hands on deck!" House suddenly shouted, making Cuddy roll her eyes.

Having heard her Captain, Rachel scampered towards them.

The little girl saluted clumsily and giggled, "Cap'n!"

"What did I tell Uncle Wilson about game night?"

Rachel took a few seconds to remember, then said, "Can't. Rachel-sittin'. Nest one. Bye."

House looked at Cuddy with a smirk. House looking at Cuddy made Rachel look at her as well, eyebrows up, not understanding what was happening. Cuddy rolled her eyes before bending down to lift Rachel into her arms.

"Cute." She commented in slight amusement. She nuzzled Rachel's neck playfully, making her daughter laugh shrilly.

"Oh I'm going to miss you," she said, kissing her on the crown of her head.

"It's three days," House smirked, his tone soft and fond.

Cuddy lowered Rachel back to the floor and took a deep breath.

"I'll see you two in three days," Cuddy said, giving Rachel a hug and another kiss. "Be a good girl for House, okay?" The little girl nodded.

"And you," Cuddy started, addressing House as she approached him. Rachel squealed and ran towards her bedroom as Cuddy pulled at his shirt and gave him a soft kiss on the mouth. "Try not to burn down my house – or the hospital – while I'm gone," she murmured disjointedly against his lips as she continued to kiss him.

House hummed against her lips and wrapped his arms around her.

"Kiss me like that more often and I'd probably start behaving," he breathed as they parted.

Cuddy clicked her tongue at that statement. "We can't have that. What would I do without you terrorizing my day?"

"I'm sure we can come up with something."

House waggled his eyebrows, making her roll her eyes in return.

* * *

><p>"Hey, kid," House greeted Rachel as he sat down next to her on the couch.<p>

Trying to mimic his voice, Rachel said, "Hey, Howsss."

House smirked and was about to reach a hand into the Lays bag between him and the tyke when she yanked it from his reach.

His eyes widened in surprise to see a different side to Cuddy's daughter.

It made him grin.

"So you're not sharing with me now," he tried to pout but the grin eating at his lips wouldn't stop.

"Yup," she sang, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as well.

"This means war, miss," House cackled, making Rachel side-eye him slyly.

"Jus' jokin'," she said seconds later, handing him the bag.

"Mean," House stuck his tongue out at her.

The proffered bag of chips was only handed to him for disposal: it was empty.

Rachel returned the gesture, her cheeks pink from trying not to laugh.

"Mama has 'nother one in the cu'board," she revealed in a voice so innocently sweet, grinning from ear to ear. "For you."

House smiled at her, ruffling her hair with a hand. He already knew that, but it was nice knowing that she purposely didn't share just to tease him, knowing there was a bag for him.

"You sly little kelp, you."

* * *

><p><em><strong>3 Days Later<strong>_

Cuddy was a bit miffed that she had to call a cab upon her arrival. House wasn't answering her calls. She knew it was late, but he'd told her he'd be at the airport to pick her up.

She thanked the cab driver for helping her with the luggage, even gave him a tip.

Silence greeted her as she stepped inside the house.

"I'm home!" Cuddy called out, closing the door behind her.

At first, Cuddy thought House and Rachel were only hiding out somewhere, waiting to pounce.

She dropped her keys on the bureau in the hallway, glancing towards the dining room as she made her way to the living room.

The sight that welcomed her home melted her heart.

Never mind that the furniture wasn't where it was supposed to be. Forget that there were bags of chips, candy and chocolate wrappers on practically every surface. Don't get her started on the toys EVERYWHERE.

There was a tent set-up in the center of her living room, its occupants asleep.

House was on his back, head and leg propped by pillows. Rachel was on her back as well, but perpendicular to House's body, using his rising and falling stomach as her pillow.

Before either moved or woke up Cuddy pulled out her phone and took a picture, smiling as she did. Assured that she had a decent photo, Cuddy quietly made her way to her bedroom and retrieved her real camera. She just couldn't let the moment pass; the two were notorious for moving and shifting when asleep.

She intended to take pictures of three scenes: the first was focused on the entire state of her living room; the second was of the tent with her dynamic duo; and the last focus she had in mind was a close up of the two people her world revolved around.

Finally satisfied, Cuddy put away her camera and changed into more comfortable clothes. She pulled out two blankets from the linen closet and proceeded to the living room.

She glanced at House and Rachel one more time, utterly adoring the sight. With a content sigh, she did what she had wanted to do that morning so many months ago: join them.

As she walked towards her daughter she almost cursed loudly when the sole of her right foot met the sharp edge of a LEGO on the floor. She picked it up, staring murderously at the small rectangle before she set it on the coffee table.

After having gotten over the LEGO piece-induced pain, she approached her daughter once more. Carefully, she covered Rachel with one blanket and kissed her on the forehead. Rachel stirred but did not wake.

She then moved to House's side, lowering herself beside him. When she was about to lay her head on the pillow next to House's head, House stirred and woke up, head turning to the side to look at her. He blinked once and one corner of his mouth tugged up.

"Hey," she breathed, smiling as she ran a hand along the side of his face.

"Hey," he greeted gruffly, voice thick with sleep. He kissed her lightly before nuzzling the side of her face. "Forgot to pick you up. Sorry."

Cuddy smiled against his lips which she had found again. "It's okay."

When they parted, he extended an arm for her to use as a pillow and pulled her against him.

"You two had fun."

"Yup," he confirmed, nose buried in her curls.

Cuddy gently threaded her fingers through Rachel's hair. As House moved to nuzzling her ear, she sighed luxuriously. "I know another thing you two will have fun doing," she murmured, smiling against the side of his face.

"Hmm?"

"Cleaning this mess up."


End file.
